


Daring the Devil

by RedMoon616



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Child Abuse, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Build, post-first season
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5914165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedMoon616/pseuds/RedMoon616
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It all started one night, in a dark alley, away from the public eye..."</p><p>She didn't know what turn of events was waiting for her that night, neither could she prevent them from taking over her life with a destructive force that will only bring her down before raising her even higher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Demon in the night

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic and I'm not really good at writing about characters that I didn't create myself, so try to bear with me. Also, I'm not a native English speaker, so there might be a lot of errors. I'll try to correct as much as I can, but if you want to help feel free to, I would really appreciate it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Haters gonna hate, amirite?
> 
> Just kidding! I'm a nerd playing the Daredevil card on bullies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little introduction of some of the characters. Short chapter, longer ones to come!

 

   It all started one night, in a dark alley, away from the public eye. I was taking a beating from one of my regular bullies and his dad. Usually, it’s only the guy and his goons. I could take that, you know, the three of them kicking my ass to the ground. I’m used to being treated that way since I was a little girl. Big guys are always picking on me because I’m smarter. Not my fault that I value intelligence over strength. It’s not like I could beat them anyway, even if I exercised.

   So I was there, on the filthy and wet concrete of the alley, trying to block out the pain and on the verge of passing out. My eyes were closed and I could smell the strong scent of blood, my blood. I could even taste it in my mouth while I was holding down the urge to vomit said fluid, among other unpleasant ones.

   Apart from the agonizing pain, I was aware of other details around me. There was the raspy feeling of the asphalt beneath me, the strong odor of the dumpster next to us and the sound of sirens going off in the distance; so far away, too far away. They were talking to me, insulting me, but I couldn’t care less. I was too fixated on something that I hadn’t noticed before, or rather say…someone? Footsteps, on the ground somewhere near. Somebody was coming, maybe to help me or maybe not. I was so terrified that I could only hope that whoever it was, he or she would stop them.

   Seconds passed like hours, everything seemed to slow down for a reason unknown to me. The kicks stopped completely at the same time that I heard screams. I slowly opened my eyes only to find two unconscious bodies lying next to me on the ground. Above them (breathing heavily), was a man wearing a black and red costume. I recognized him instantly; Daredevil, also known as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Considered a criminal, a vigilante or a hero; it depended on who you asked. He looked at me, strangely, but said nothing. I stood there, paralyzed, watching him in awe. Before I could say ‘thank you’, he disappeared again into the dark. I was saved by the Devil; ironic, right?

   That’s the story of how I met him. I can still remember perfectly every single aspect of that encounter; like I would forget anyway. He didn’t only save me from those guys, he saved me from myself. No, I wasn’t on drugs or suicidal, but it was self-destructive the way that I let everyone push me down into the mud without putting up a fight. Since then I changed a lot. Now I fight back, every time and no matter what. Most of the time I lose, but I always get up. I don’t give a shit about the pain or the risk. My life used to be ruled by fear, but not anymore. It was holding me back, now I’ll use it to push me forward. Daredevil inspired me to be more than a simple nerd.

   I decided to take his example and become some kind of amateur vigilante myself. Of course, I don’t go after mob bosses or take down whole companies with dirty businesses in the back, but I do what I can. Defend the weak and topple the scum. Every bully I can find, for example. The ones I know, and the ones I don’t. It takes a lot of time and effort, apart from the pain and exhaustion of course. But it’s worth every single defenseless kid that I save from a bad beating.

   You’re probably wondering how it all started. I’ll tell you, it’s simple. I like reading and learning, not necessarily studying, but you get it. It was like this since I was little. I always got A’s on tests and did all my homework. My mom and my teachers loved this, the other kids not so much. They wanted me to help them, do their work for them and tell them the right answers for every exam. I naturally said no, contrary to what most little kids will say to an older and menacing boy or girl. They kicked my ass for it, every time that I said no. And I let them do it. It wasn’t like I could stop them from doing it, so what was there to do? If I fought back it would have been worse, so I didn’t, until now.

   I asked my mom if I could take self-defense classes at the local gym and she said yes. I knew she was going to accept, she's always worried about me because of the beatings that I take from the bullies. She tried to help, but she couldn’t. You know why? Because the system is fucked up. That’s the exact reason why the Devil appeared in Hell’s Kitchen; because he knew it and decided to take action, sick of being another bystander turning a blind eye on the crimes that rule this city. I’m fed up just like him, and just like him, I decided to step in and do something about it. My mom didn’t approve, but also she didn’t find out until I got caught by the inefficient police itself. I say inefficient because they arrested me, the girl trying to defend those who can’t from the ones hurting them. I don’t understand their logic, and if there’s any...then I don’t want to understand at all. It will only add more to my rage.

   So, I was passing by a basketball court when I heard some screams and wails coming from the inside of the yard. I went through the open fence door and saw a bunch of teens punching little kids who hadn’t reached puberty yet. What a bunch of assholes. I didn’t need to think twice about taking them in a fight. Long story short, I ended up bloody, like them, but the kids didn’t suffer further damage. The police were alerted by a freaked out neighbor who saw the fight, and they came running like it was a mob war or something. The dickheads got away, I wasn’t so lucky.

   They took me to their car and drove to the police station. I was fucked, my mom was going to kill me, or at least I thought that. As soon as we arrived, they pushed me inside the building. I remember seeing a lot of people, different kinds of people. Some were criminals, some were innocent civilians. Not so many cops, less than expected, I think. However, there were two suited up guys who got my attention. One was kind of chubby and had long blonde hair caressing his shoulders. The other one had short brown hair, a little bit of stubble, and a pair of blood-tinted sunglasses. Who wears sunglasses inside a building, you would ask. Well, if the cane he was holding is anything to go by, you have your answer. The guy was blind; although, he  _could_  see. I don’t know how to explain it, but he could, I noticed it.

   As I, and the cops who were dragging me along, passed by those two guys, the blind one turned to ‘look’ at me. I know, okay? I’m well aware that the man couldn’t actually  _see_ , but I swear that it felt like he did. It creeped me out at first, but later I understood that it wasn’t a bad thing at all.

   And that, my dear friend who’s bearing my story, brings us to the present. To this very moment, the one I find myself stuck in. I’m currently in the interrogation room of the police station, sitting across the two fellows I saw when I first came in. As it turns out, they’re lawyers; lucky me. The police officers already called my mom and she’s on her way here. She’s going to scold the hell out of me, how fun. And that’s only if I’m let out with nothing more than a warning from the cops, which seems likely thanks to the two gentlemen in front of me.

   The blind guy, Mr. Murdock, told me that as soon as they saw me enter the station, they decided to take my “case”. Apparently, he has a soft spot for troubled kids like me. I’m not that much of a trouble, though. He seems pretty sweet and nice; his partner too, but he gave me the impression of being more interested in money than my wellbeing. No surprise there, they’re lawyers after all. Not the big firm kind of, since they’re here with me. I could never afford something like that, and they know it.

   Thing is, I told them what happened and they said that it will be easy to get me out. Which is logical, I didn’t do anything wrong; I was only trying to help, like always when it comes to people like me. Changing the subject, and realizing that after this is unlikely I’ll see them sometime again (unless I get arrested a second time), I take my damn time looking at Mr. Murdock. I’m conscious of the fact that Mr. Nelson, his partner, can form a good idea of  _what_  I’m doing. Honestly? I don’t give a shit. I like him, the blind guy with the red sunglasses, he’s cute and handsome. I wish to see him again someday, I hope to.

   While my mind tries to memorize Mr. Murdock’s beautiful face, my mom comes bursting through the door, starts yelling at me for being reckless and apologizes to the attorneys. Great. Thanks, mom; for humiliating me and crushing my chance of getting it on with Mr. Blind Guy. Shut up, let me have my fantasies, I deserve them after all the things that I’ve been through today, and all my life for that matter.

   Before I can even begin to say 'goodbye' and 'thank you', to Mr. Nelson and Mr. Murdock, my dear mother drags me out from the little room to the expanse of the streets. It’s already dark and it’s fucking freezing. I can see the chilly air every time I exhale and a puff comes out of my mouth. Damn, I should get arrested more often.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's vague and doesn't say much, but I thought that as a first chapter it would serve its purpose. Let me know (if you want) what you think about it. Thanks for reading! :D


	2. Thank you and forgive me (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is not taking over my life, okay?  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Maybe it does. Shut up. He's hot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the "protagonist speaks directly to reader" insert it's not too freaky. It's just a dynamic I like. This chapter follows Mackenzie* around the city while she follows Daredevil.
> 
>  
> 
> *That's her name. Sorry you had to find this way, I didn't have the opportunity to pop it up in the story yet. As always, bear with me. This is a work in progress after all.

 

   “Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at law.” That’s what the sign outside the small building read. It seems that someone heard my wish and decided to make it come true. Ironically, said someone is my mother. And she didn’t hear me, by the way; she just deemed it appropriate to thank the lawyers in a more proper way. I can think of a better way but only with one of them, if you know what I mean…Moving on, we’re sitting in their meeting room, almost too small to fit the five of us. Yeah, they have a secretary. I really hope she’s with ‘chubby guy’ at large; otherwise, my dream will crumble down faster than you can say ‘crap’. Just how I’m feeling right now, don’t judge if you don’t know.

   My mom (the sweet angel that she is, no sarcasm intended here), made a casserole to thank the guys for helping me out. We’re not in the best economic position, so she couldn’t buy something fancy –let alone pay them. The three of them smile happily anyway and thank her warmly. What I would do to see that smile on his face every day...I’m not even certain myself. He’s just so, so…dreamy. Fuck, I’m falling for a man who must be like ten years older than me or something. I’m pretty well damned.

   Anyhow, they’re really nice. They say that they’re happy to be able to help and that they’ll do it again if the “opportunity” presents itself in the future; such charming and lovable guys. Still, there’s something that’s been bothering me since I met them back at the station. Something’s off about Matthew. That’s Mr. Murdock’s first name. His partner is Franklin (or Foggy, as he calls himself). And the woman is Karen Page. What I gathered from their little introduction is that they’re defense attorneys and that this is their job, aiding people like me through the legal system. Nice, I guess.

   We don’t stay much longer, unfortunately. I want to keep looking at that lovely face with the glasses and the stubble, but we got to go. If we stay out longer than we should, there will be consequences. The kind I don’t like.

   My father passed away ten years ago when I was eight. He was a police officer, killed while on duty by a low scum drug dealer. Some time ago, a couple of years, my mother re-married, after dueling as much as she could. I understand that she needed to move on; to be happy again. What I don’t understand, and never will, is why she married a cheating and violent asshole. Seriously, the guy (despite being a compulsive and misogynistic cheater) gets jealous so easily and quickly that if my mom stays out too long, he’ll beat her when she comes home. I tried once to stop him, and give him what he deserves, it didn’t end up well. Wish the masked man will help on this one too since police can’t –or refuse– to step in. I’m getting too wishful as of late.

   Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, the dickhead who likes to beat my mom for no reason whatsoever. Like I was saying, if we get home before he leaves his workplace, we’ll be fine. Or at least she will. Since the day that I fought against him (even having lost) he didn’t try to hurt me again, knowing that I’ll put up a fight if he does and being smarter than that. It’s not like I would win, but I’m capable of messing him up pretty good.

   God answered my prayers of meeting Matthew “Hunk” Murdock one more time, but he didn’t listen when I asked to get home before the shit-ass motherfucker. Forgive me for swearing this much, but I really hate that piece-of-shit-excuse-of-a-man that calls himself my stepfather. By the time we arrived, he was already there, waiting. He was drunk, as per usual. My mom told me to go to my room and lock myself in. I wanted to stay, to fight and to defend her, she didn’t. As soon as I heard the click that the lock of my door did when I turned it, the screams and the crashes came in waves. Feeling completely impotent, I lie down in my tiny bed and begin to cry.

   I hate to be indifferent to it, but I’ve to force myself. Otherwise, it’ll be worse for the both of us; I know because it already happened. So, instead, I grab my cell phone and headphones and listen to music while I try my hardest to think of something other than the fight ensuing outside my bedroom. I don’t hate my life, I hate the fact that I can’t do something to fix it without hurting the only person I care about in the process.

   As the song plays, loud and clear, it drowns out every single other noise that there is. It calms me down, just the tiniest bit. There’s only one thing that helps me cope with all of this and that can distract me from the cruel world: him. And no, I’m not talking about Matt “Dreamy” Murdock, sexy attorney at law. I’m referring to Daredevil, the masked vigilante who wants to save the city. I hope he does, eventually. Right now, all he can do is save me. Well, thinking about him can help me forget to some extent what my mom is going through as of this very moment (again, I want to help, but it’ll get nastier if I do).

   The more I think (or dream…) about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, the more I discover about him. They’re just conjectures, but it’s interesting and entertaining to analyze them. I find myself, most often than not, looking at strangers on the street, trying to figure out if any of them is Daredevil. I’ve come out empty handed each time. I’ll keep trying though, I’ll never give up.

   This far I’ve only been able to decipher some details, bits and odds, nothing much. He’s really fitted and strong so that rules out a whole bunch of dudes who are not. He’s of average height, shorter than you’ll assume. He doesn’t seem to shave that much, always wearing a stubble on his face. That’s a bit of info that I gathered from different people who crossed paths with him. Some of them even had the chance to hear his voice, and they told me that it’s not very low or too high, somewhere in the middle I suppose.

   Besides the incredibly toned body and amazing combat skills, there’s one thing that keeps poking at my mind: his mask. I couldn’t appreciate the new one at the moment we met, but a lot of people who I talked with told me about the old one. A piece of black cloth tied around half of his head, covering from the nose all the way up. It only left skin exposed from the tip of his nose to the conjunction between his neck and chest. There were no holes of any kind in the mask, at the altitude of the eyes. Someone who got pretty close to the Devil told me that the cloth wasn’t see-through. So, how did he see while wearing the mask? A couple of persons who I spoke to, ones that saw him fight, said that he seemed to see more than a normal person could. How could he do that if the mask apparently prevented him from doing so? If he couldn’t see, then he used his other senses, especially his hearing. But he would’ve to train for years to be able to enhance his senses that much. Sounds crazy, right? Well, I have an idea that sounds insane and makes sense at the same time. Bear with me a little more, please.

   What kind of person has enhanced senses without having to train them just for the sake of it? We’re talking about all the senses except sight. Got an idea? No? Let me help then: blind people. Be it born blind or turned blind for X reason, blind people have enhanced senses. Just like Daredevil, according to my theory and what people who encountered him say. So, what if the masked hero was blind? Yes, I hear your argument about being blind not turning you automatically into a superhero, but stranger things have been known to happen. Remember the “incident” in New York some time ago, with the heroes and the aliens? Yeah, me too. Back to my point, I believe he's blind and that his "superpowers" are enhanced senses. It’s enough to fight crime, in my opinion. There’s that ‘justice is blind’ thing and all.

   Moving forward,  _if_  Daredevil is, in fact, blind, that leaves us with a little percentage of people who could be him. You’re going to think I’m crazy for saying this (in case you already aren’t), but coming to realize, I’m starting to think that Mr. Murdock isn’t a regular lawyer. Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me! Think about it, it makes sense! He’s him! His complexity matches; he’s a defense attorney, so there’s all that justice crap, and he’s blind! If you still don’t believe me, I can assure you that the two times I met Matt Murdock he talked in a way that made the connection obvious to whoever was paying attention. I was. He sounded so much like Daredevil. Fine, I’m still half in doubt, but if I could meet the vigilante once more and get him to say something, then I could compare voices and be a little surer about my guess. There’s only one way that I can achieve this, I need to get out on the streets and find him.

   I take off my headphones and discover the apartment is deadly quiet save for the drowned out chatting on the television. All I need is some black clothes and to get out without being heard. Luckily, I have the clothes and I know how to sneak out quietly. After dressing up, I get out using my window (which is on the fourth floor, but thanks to whoever invented stairs, I can reach the rooftop without falling). A couple of minutes later I’m on the roof, watching the few buildings and houses that surround my apartment. How the hell do I get a hold of Daredevil? I’ve no idea. Guess I should start searching randomly until I get lucky and find something worth the search.

   It’s in moments like this that I’m thankful for adding parkour to my training. If I hadn’t, running through the top of buildings would be a hell of a lot more difficult. Got to admit, the wind on my face and hair feels pretty good. Let’s hope I don’t trip and fall down a five-story building, shall we?

   I’m going down a ladder in a building near a warehouse when I hear loud banging: gunshots. This might be my opportunity, or something ridiculously stupid; probably both. Crouching down and peering over some barrels piled in the perimeter of the abandoned factory, I stand still and wait for anyone to come out. It’s not long until someone does. A man in a black and red suit: Daredevil. He looks tired and wounded, but not mortally so. I watch mesmerized by how awesome he looks even in his current state. A fleeting thought passes my mind, one of coming close and talking to him. Before I can even ponder on it, the masked man turns his head in my direction, like he just heard me or something. Is he looking straight at me? Did he really notice me, from that far? No way…

   I don’t have time to keep asking myself these questions any longer. He’s moving, and so am I. Damn, he’s way faster than I thought. I’m not sure I can keep up with his pace. God, I’m tired. Wait, where did he go? He was right in front of me a couple of seconds ago…

   I stop, stand still with my back straight, and absorb as much information as I can. Trying to mimic him, am I not? The air smells like the smoke coming out of various chimneys around me. The humidity is high tonight; I can feel it on my skin and taste it on the tip of my tongue. This is not helping. Fuck. I give up for now. I’ll keep looking until I find him again. I’ll use this as a way of training. I have to become faster, so I can follow him, and stronger, in case any obstacles present themselves. Who knows? Maybe if I become good enough he’ll let me be his sidekick. Just kidding, stop being so mean.

   When I get back home it’s almost dawn, and I didn’t sleep at all. Shit. I’m so fucking tired. What’s worst of all? My body is sore all over and I’ve to get up soon to go to school. Fuck my life.

 

* * *

 

   A week has passed since I followed him for the first time. Unbelievably, I managed to encounter him three more times during these last days. I couldn’t keep with him until the end, but I’m getting closer. The exercise and training are working. Soon I’ll be able to catch him or follow him to wherever he goes. You know what’s the creepy part? No, I’m not talking about the fact that I stalk him. The disturbing bit is that I think he knows that I’m watching him, but it doesn’t seem like he’s going to do something about it. Maybe it’s just my imagination, like always; wouldn’t be the first time.

   In other news (more important), one of those days, I came back home only to find my mom unconscious after being beaten half to death by that bastard. I took her to the hospital and reconsidered going out every night. Then again, maybe I can ask Daredevil to do me the favor of beating the son of a bitch that is my stepfather. Still, I don’t think he’ll have enough of a free agenda to do it, or that I’ll have the courage to ask. I’m a coward, I know. Probably should get my shit together and beat him myself.

   Do you want to know what the worst part is? I complain about my mother’s situation, I don’t do anything to solve it and on top of it all I’m not even in the house as much as I should. Not only do I go out at night to follow Daredevil, now I’m so obsessed with this that I’m stalking Murdock during the day. While I’m trying to solve a mystery without relevance (because even if I find out who Daredevil is I’m not going to tell anyone), my mom gets beaten in my absence. I’m as much of a piece of shit as her husband is. And I hate myself more than ever because of that. It’s my entire fault, I know. My only semblance of hope is that if my suspicions are true, then I could convince him or blackmail him into bringing the douche to justice. I wish it could work that way.

   It’s my second week following him; so far I’ve got nothing. Every night I’m capable of running a little farther, but it’s not enough. I’m getting faster, I acknowledge that, but it’s really tiresome. Last night I almost fell through the gap between two buildings, I could’ve died. I grabbed hold of a ladder before I could fall all the way down, that saved my life. I need to be more careful, otherwise, I won’t live to see if my efforts pay off.

   Tonight I’m in an alley, just like the first time I saw him. I’m standing next to an idiot who tried to rob me. If he knew better, he wouldn’t be lying on the floor knocked out cold. I haven’t seen him yet, the Devil. I suppose I should stay low for a while, I don’t want him to notice me and confront me. I’ve no idea what his reaction would be, and I don’t want to know either. I’m fine being an unnoticed stalker.

   I’m about to leave when I hear sounds coming from the rooftop above me; then, out of nowhere, a stick comes flying down, almost knocking me out too. It falls with a clang, bounces a little, and lies still on the pavement. I take a closer look and notice that it’s red and silver, made out of metal. I pick it up at the same time that I hear a noise from above. I look up and see him looking down at me. Well, crap. For a second I think he’ll come down to retrieve what I assume is his weapon –or part of it-, but he's grabbed from behind and the fight reassumes. I take it as my cue to leave and go back home. Gripped tightly in my right hand, sits the metallic stick belonging to Daredevil.

 

* * *

 

   I’ve been following Matt “Hottie” Murdock all day (I really need to stop with the nicknames; they sound creepy even to me). He doesn’t do much actually; it’s pretty boring to follow him. I prefer to follow his masked alter ego. I know he is him, okay? He has to. Right now he’s walking home, after finishing his day at the office. Yes, I know where he lives.  _Yes_ , I’m aware I‘m a freaking stalker. Now shut up and let me keep telling my story. When Matty (I  _know_  how it sounds, leave me be) gets home, I get on top of a building near his and watch via binoculars. Stop calling me ‘creep’, please, it’s annoying.

   He cooks, investigates about the case he’s on at the moment and then goes to sleep. That’s his routine, pretty normal, huh? This is when I leave and go after Daredevil. If you’re wondering about my mother I’ll tell you this, she’s in the hospital. He put her there, that…I don’t even have words to describe how much of a scumbag he really is so I’ll leave it to you to find them for me. It’s my fault, of course. He got angry because I wasn’t around anymore, so he took it out on her. Now I have to visit a goddamn hospital if I want to see her. No, he doesn’t go. He doesn’t give a shit, just like I don’t for him. I’ll get Daredevil to kick his ass if I can’t do it myself, I promise.

   I could try to make Nelson and Murdock press legal charges, but that’s not enough. My mom gets put in the hospital and what, the perpetrator is only sent to jail? ¡Hell no! He’ll pay, with interests.

   Doing my best not to lose my calm, I concentrate on the man some feet in front of me. There’re times when I believe that he notices me too, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. All of this is consuming my time, my energy and my mind. If I don’t end up dead, I’ll sure as hell end up demented. If only I could prove or disprove my theory for once and for all, I’ll be much more at ease. Come on, Daredevil/Murdock, reveal yourself to me. I really, really need you to; for me, for my mom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot going on in this chapter, or at least in Mackenzie's mind. It'll get more "characters dynamics" in the next ones, I promise.
> 
> And as always, thank you for your patience, and for reading of course. Let me know what you think and if you found any error. <3


	3. Thank you and forgive me (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is it too soon to think about buying engagement rings?
> 
> Geez, calm your tits, it's just a random question...(it's really not)."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, in this chapter we get more interaction between the two protagonists, as well as the true identity of the vigilante finally revealed (to Mackenzie, of course). Hope you enjoy!

 

   It’s been a month since the last time that I saw him and I still got nothing solid. More so, I’d broken a few of my ribs when I fell off a ladder and into a dumpster. I was lucky there even was one in the first place, it would’ve been much worse if I fell to the ground instead. Although I’m still alive, I spent a lot of time in bed and I couldn’t go out to look for Daredevil. I’ve missed him during this time. But now I’m back on the streets baby! _Yes_ , I  _can_  hear how I sound.

   Moving past that, I have exciting news to tell you! I’ve been ‘secretly’ working for Nelson and Murdock. Well, actually only for Nelson, Matthew doesn’t know and it will be better if it stays that way. With the excuse that we shouldn’t tell him because he wouldn’t agree to let me help them, I convinced Foggy and Karen to keep their mouths shut; so far so good. It’s not like I do much anyway, only some field work that doesn’t represent any real danger. I gather information for them, from harmless people of course. I keep watch in certain places, which works well since no one would really suspect a teenage girl. And at the end of the day, I report back to either of them while Murdock isn’t around. Pretty good strategy, am I right?

   This is great, seriously. And I’m not saying it only because I’m able to be around the lawyers, I’m talking about helping other people out, even if it’s in a small way. I don’t bring much to the table, but whatever something I can collect is enough for the three of us. I always want to do more, but at the same time, I don’t want to screw things up. For now, Matt is oblivious to my involvement, or at least that’s what we think. Not only will be compromised my relationship with Foggy and Karen but my plan as a whole. I’m getting closer to finding out, I know for sure. I just need a little more time, that’s all.

   I’m still recovering from the fractures, so I can’t keep up with the masked devil. Soon I’ll be able to do so once again.

   Tonight’s not the night, unfortunately. I’m tired and hurting all over. I need to get some sleep too. Not everything is bad, though; the temperature is warmer than previous nights, so I’m not freezing my ass off. I’ve been following Daredevil for three hours through half of the city. Does he ever stop? Doesn’t he get tired after all of this? He must be superhuman or something. That’s not normal.

   He went inside a warehouse (yes, Hell’s Kitchen seems to be full of them) over half an hour ago. For a moment I thought about lying down a bit and getting some rest, but it’s never safe to do that in this kind of place. I could wake up dead. Wait, that’s not how it works…it doesn’t matter, you get my point. Whatever is happening inside that building must be pretty bad; otherwise, he wouldn’t take so long in coming back out. I’ve got a bad feeling about this (let me quote Star Wars to my heart's content, thank you very much).

   Tired of waiting, and almost bored to death, I decide to take a closer look at what’s going on. Coming down the rooftop in which I was waiting, I walk silently to one of the big windows and peer inside. There are bodies scattered all over the floor. Damn, it looks like a horror movie. Where is him anyway? I hear loud banging going off somewhere to my right, armed guys most likely. Shit, if they see me…

   Something touches my right shoulder, or grabs it, to be more specific. I turn around and a fist collides with my face. Ouch, that hurt. I fall to the ground, grabbing my face and noticing my nose is bleeding. My lower lip is broken and I can taste more blood in my mouth; not again… I look up and find a guy with a scruffy appearance staring back at me. He has a gun. I’m fucked. The noises behind us get louder, distracting him for a second. That’s all I need to get up on my feet and try to knock him down.

   My sudden movements startle him, but as soon as he recovers he’s overpowering me. I manage to hit him in the face once and a couple of times in the gut, but it’s not enough. He throws me to the ground with a right hook, hitting me square in the jaw. Lying on the cold concrete I try to cover myself from the vicious kicks aimed at my head. I can feel my half-healed ribs breaking once more, and a trickle of blood running down my left cheek. I get a hold of his right ankle in an attempt to prevent him from hurting me more. Instead, he steps forcefully over my hand and snaps a finger out of place in the process. I cry out from the pain, half-conscious at this point, trying to see if I can get the attention of the masked man.

   In place of someone coming to help me, I hear the cock of a gun. I open my eyes and see the guy pointing his pistol at me. Before I can scream, he fires. The sound is deafening and I immediately feel a searing pain in my left side. I fucked up big time.

   I can’t hear my own screams, still deaf from the explosion of the gun. All I can care about is the bullet inside me, burning me and tearing me apart. I’ve no idea what’s going on right now, but something definitely is. Otherwise, I would be dead already, with a second bullet coming through my head. I can feel movement around me, something shifting. I think someone fell to the ground, hopefully, the guy who shot me. Without opening my eyes, not daring to, I sense a person close to me. Two gloved hands are touching me, pulling me from the ground. Someone scoops me up in their arms, big and strong. Maybe it’s him, or maybe not. I’m too tired to look and even if I did, I feel like I wouldn’t see anything more than a black void.

    The buzzing in my ears is beginning to quiet down, I can hear a little more now. Whoever is carrying me started to move towards a destination unknown to me, or maybe it's not, but I can’t see and I’m feeling more tired and sleepy as time goes by. I try to stay awake, knowing that if I fall asleep I might never wake up, but the pull of the darkness is so tempting…

   “Stay with me…”

 

* * *

 

   “Stay with me”. That’s the last thing I heard. Who said it? I don’t know. My best guess is that it was Daredevil, but I wasn’t really conscious at the time. I woke up in the hospital, with my mom asleep sitting next to me. I caressed her hair and smiled sadly. All the shit that I pull her through…It’s not healthy, for neither of us. I love her and I want to protect her, but I can’t do it myself. That’s the reason why I'm looking to make a deal with the Devil (pun intended). I know what you might be thinking right now, that meeting him won’t ensure that he’ll help me. I still have to try. The police officers are too lazy to even care about this situation. He’s my only hope.

   This incident won’t stop me from going out each night once I recover. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Besides, I got to thank him for saving my life. Before I do that, I have to go back to work. You know; the work I do for Foggy and Karen. They came to visit me the day after I woke up; they even bought me one of those “get better soon” balloons. Karen asked me what had happened and who’d done it. I’d to lie of course, at least in some parts of the story. I couldn’t tell them the whole truth. I gave a distorted version of the events, saying that I was taking a walk when an armed man tried to mug me. I resisted and then he shot me. That last part is not really a lie. But the result was the same, my mom wanted to kill me for doing something so stupid and dangerous, and Karen and Foggy offered their help saying that they would try to catch the criminal. Well, good luck, I think a certain masked someone already took care of it himself.

   Tomorrow I’ll be discharged from the hospital. Finally! Jesus, being here is worse than death (not that I really know about that). It’s fucking boring and I can’t do anything at all, just lie down and watch crappy television. Right now, my mom, it’s in the waiting room, getting a coffee or something. She’s a true saint; staying by my side even after all I did to her and the repercussions this whole mess will have. I don’t care if I die; I won’t let him hurt her because of me, not this time.

   There’s a soft knock on the door. It’s not my mom since she would come in without knocking. And it isn’t any of the nurses or doctors that I know. Some of them don’t knock, and the rest do it louder. So, who the hell is it? I grant permission to enter to whoever is on the other side, wincing when I hear my coarse voice cracking while trying to speak up. The door opens slowly, revealing a man in a suit, wearing sunglasses and holding a cane. Holy shit, it’s Murdock! I can’t believe my eyes. Oh divine grace, thank you so much for this beautiful gift. Shut up and let me enjoy this, okay? I deserve it, I almost died (I can hear you saying that it was my own fault, I just  _don’t_  care).

   He prods the floor around him with his cane, searching for any obstacles in his path. He’s so adorable. God, I’m too in shock to even say something. Help me out! Please, what can I say? Oh wait, shut it, he’s speaking.

   “Hi, Mackenzie, how are you holding up?” His smile is definitely one of the most beautiful things that I’d ever seen in my life, apart from him as a whole of course. He’s so sweet and lovely, makes me want to hug him and never let go. Wish I could, though. I can’t believe that he came to visit me! Oh my god, I’m going to die. Wait, no, no, no. Not dying until he leaves. I realize I’ve been staring at him with a dumb smile on my face, not responding, for at least a minute now. Maybe he thinks that I fell asleep and he’ll leave. No! I know he can’t see me smile and all that, or maybe he can…if he  _is_  Daredevil. But that’s not the point right now. Okay, okay, I need to calm down. And more importantly, I have to say something, now.

   “Hi, Matt...Er, I mean Mr. Murdock. Sorry”. I’m a stupid fuck, such a creep. He’ll figure out that I’m stalking him before I can even make an excuse. He smiles, kind of shyly, and laughs a little. I think my heart just melted. I’m pretty sure my mind did. Help.

   “It’s okay, just call me Matt”. Oh hell yes I will! And I’ll especially do it now that you granted me permission to use it. Damn, I would love to just scream it in b- “So, how have you been doing? Aside from being assaulted and shot, of course”. The cheeky grin, the joke on point, and the melodious voice are killing me. Come on, Matty, I almost died; I don’t want to be on the brink of death again. Why the fuck does he have to be so…Ugh. Fuck it, I give up.

   “Well, I’m not dead, so that’s good I guess”. He laughs, he freaking laughs. I’m going to have a heart attack sooner or later. I hope I don’t, though. I don’t want to erase that charming smile off of his face. He looks at me with such a warm expression (stop saying “he’s blind, he can’t see"; blind people can see more than you or I can), not with pity but with true sympathy. He’s worried, I can tell. “What brings you here anyway?”

   “Karen told me about what happened, so I came to check on you. I wanted to know how you were”. Sheer willpower is the only thing stopping me from tearing all these damn cables off of me and jumping him so I can kiss him. I wonder what he’ll think about that.

   “Oh, really? She came with Foggy a few days back. They even bought me a balloon”. I try to sweat it out. Besides the two first times that I encountered the lawyers, Matt isn’t aware of me meeting Foggy and Karen several times more. Seeing someone twice doesn’t make you care enough to go visit them at the hospital, at least not generally. Murdock’s not stupid; he can realize all of this pretty easily. He found out somehow that they came to visit me, either because they made the mistake of telling him (by not realizing it or simply fucking up) or because he discovered it in some other way. What I’m sure of it’s the reason why he came. He’s here not only because he cares but to find out about my extended involvement with his colleagues. Like I said, a blind person can ‘see’ more than one who has sight.

   “So they've told me. They were worried about you, as well as I. They said that you were mugged late at night in an alley. Would you mind telling me what you were doing there at that hour?” There it is; that goddamn question. I knew it; I told you. Might as well take advantage of this opportunity and make him aware of my family’s situation. Maybe Murdock won’t do anything, but if he’s Daredevil, he might  _do_  something while wearing the mask.

   “I know, it’s silly and dangerous, but it helps me out a lot. My mom and I, we don’t have the most comfortable and happy family relationship. Well, not with my stepfather, that’s what I mean. I like to take a walk, at night when he sleeps, to clear my head a little. It’s just…complicated. I’m sorry; I don’t want to trouble you with this”.

 The sad tone of my voice it’s not faked, just a bit exaggerated. It appears to work, though. He looks at me with his brow furrowed and his lips pulled back to a thin line. Gotcha.

   “What’s the situation with your stepfather? Does he mistreat you and your mother in some way…?” He sounds genuinely concerned; so sweet. His hands tightened their grip on top of the cane and I can see the telltale of an angry twitch on his jaw. He’s getting mad. It’s working.

   “Nothing the police can solve, apparently. I’m fine, really, it’s my mom who…” I let a little sob escape my mouth, just for the sake of the effect. I care, okay? I’m seething with rage, so don’t tell me off about my acting. I can’t do anything, but he can.

   “You think that there’s nothing the legal system can do about it?” He sounds as pissed as I feel. Matt is trying so hard to not let it show, to not scare me off. Fuck, he’ll be my downfall. You’re right, but I think he’s worth it.

   “If there was then I would’ve done something a long time ago. Believe me, I tried; it didn’t work. I thought that maybe…” I don’t finish the sentence in an attempt to hook him up. I could be completely wrong, but if he’s the vigilante that saved me twice, then the insinuation will work perfectly. I look at him, gazing at his beautiful features, and a couple of lonely tears slid down my face. I cry for my mother and the possible death that awaits her at the hands of that wicked man. And I cry for him too, giving his life for strangers such as myself. I wish the world was a better place.

   “What is it, Mackenzie? What you thought of?” He looks conflicted, shifting a little closer and inclining his head to hear me more clearly. His glasses have slipped forward, providing me with a brief view of his eyes. They look like a light shade of brown but mixed with something else. I can’t see too well from this distance, and if I lean in he’ll notice. Not the best course of action.

   “Maybe Daredevil could…” His body stiffens and he goes entirely rigid for a second. His expression is unreadable. I don’t know if it's because of me mentioning the vigilante, or because my mom just entered the room. He turns around and greets my mother. She’s happy to see him. Who wouldn’t, honestly?

   Our chat is over; the moment to make an indirect request has passed. Now he’s talking with my mom, assuring her that Foggy and he will do as much as they can to help us catch the assailant. I get the impression that he only says so to make her feel better. But then again, I know the truth of what happened to the guy.

   He doesn’t stay much longer. He tells me he expects that I recover soon and that I don’t go through something like this again. After an “until next time” (that depends, though), he leaves with his compelling smile, the one that makes you fall for him. Goddamn it.

   “Well, I’m glad that you stayed with us, Mackenzie…” His goodbye is more extensive, but it’s drowned out. All I can think about is what he just said; what I just heard.

   ‘Stay with me’ is what the man in the mask told me when he rescued me.

   ‘Stay with us’ is what Matthew just said. I’m not fucking kidding you,  _they sound the same_. I swear! It’s the same voice, the same tone; it’s  _exactly_  the same.

 

* * *

 

   Daredevil didn’t beat the crap out of my stepfather, at least not yet. I’m still waiting, even knowing it's unlikely. The good part is that I’m already fully recovered. Back on the streets, just like I promised (I know you secretly love me and my foolishness). I resumed my stalking on both, Matt Murdock and Daredevil, but I’m taking a vacation from my work with K&F (yes, I call them that. YES, I ship ’em). Not per my decision, of course. They thought I should keep a low profile for a while and stay out of that line of work. I think is total bullshit. They probably believe I got attacked while investigating for them and I didn’t want to tell them that so they didn’t felt guilty. I was investigating for myself, not for them, about my favorite subject.

   So here I am, on the rooftop in front of Murdock’s building, waiting for him to come out as Daredevil. I swear, if he does, I’ll freak out. You have no idea how I’m feeling right now. After  _all_  the things I’ve been through I’m finally on the verge of finding out if Matthew Murdock is Daredevil. I’m so excited I might piss myself. I know, disgusting right?

   So far nothing has happened. The lights are turned off (then again I don’t think he uses them that much) and the room is deadly quiet. Come on, Matty, I’m sick of waiting. Reveal yourself, for Christ's sake!

   After staying put for nearly an hour, I see some movement in the rooftop across from mine. A figure, a black silhouette, runs from the door which grants access to the top of the building and begins climbing the neighbor one. I grab my binoculars as fast as I can and focus them on the man parkouring his way through the roofs. I only get a glimpse, but I see black and red. It's Daredevil. Okay, your point of ‘it could be anyone from that building, not necessarily Matt’ is valid, but mine about ‘he’s the hero’ is as well. Someone in that apartment complex is Daredevil, period. Now I just have to find who.

   I’ve been watching this building for approximately two months, from above rooftops and from the ground, and I know to a certain extent the people who live there. There’s only one person who matches the description. Yes, you guessed it, Murdock; equally fit and righteous. If I can catch him in the midst of it, then I’ll know for sure. How am I supposed to do that? Got any ideas? Right, thanks anyway.

   Oh, I know! It’s an excellent –probably not– idea. I’ll search for him…in his apartment. Let me rephrase that so you’ll understand: I’ll go inside Murdock’s place. If he’s there then he isn’t Daredevil; if he isn’t home, then I’ll wait until he shows up. Depending on how he’s dressed like, I’ll confirm if he’s the vigilante or not. Quite simple isn’t it? I just have to find out a way to break in without being too loud or too obvious. I should probably try the door on the rooftop, which will more likely be unlocked. You know, because he’s got to come back at some point. Leaving the door locked would only prove to be a problem then.

   Once I get down my building and up his, I find said door. I push it open and walk down a flight of stairs as quietly as I can. Every time the old wood beneath my feet creaks in displeasure I have the feeling that he’ll jump out right in front of me, scaring the life out of my body in the process. I overlook the living room and part of the kitchen, all clear. I move through this area, looking in every corner for someone. When I’m finished registering the entirety of the room I go to the next one. It’s the bedroom, I presume. It has a sliding door, so I need to be extremely careful while moving it. Luckily for me, it isn’t closed all the way, leaving just a tiny gap. I put my fingers on the border and curl them around the side, pulling gently. The door moves smoothly a few inches, enough for me to poke my head in. I do so and find myself staring into an empty room. There’s no one here after all. I widen the gap a little more and step inside, looking around and making sure it’s totally empty. Well, Murdock is Daredevil, unless he has a twin brother who’s also blind. It’s a possibility, right?

   I come back to the sitting area once again, letting my body fall heavily onto the couch beneath me. I’m exhausted, and I’m not talking about tonight, I’m talking in general. After weeks of following the two (one, if I’m right) guys all day and night I can barely stay awake and walk. I don’t even know how I’m capable of forming a coherent thought; or "speaking" to you, for that matter. But I’m still here, trying my hardest to figure this all out once and for all. It’s worth it, I know. It has to be.

   I stay looking at the giant screen outside the apartment, located in a building across the street. I’m not watching anything really; I’m staring off into space, thinking about him while I cradle part of his weapon. Yes, I still have it. I’m waiting for the opportunity to return it to him myself. That’s the reason why I always go out with it, and it also helps with self-defense. I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep with so much light coming from that damn screen or the fact that I’m at somebody else’s place. The last thing I want is to be caught sleeping on the couch of a house I broke into. How could I explain it to Mr. Murdock? Maybe he’ll let me pleasure him as a way of apologizing for breaking into his home… (Can it, let me have my naughty fantasies).

   He’s out, that’s for sure. Where? I don’t know. He could be kicking some ass down an alley while wearing a black and red costume-armor. Or he could be doing something completely unrelated, like working late at his office or out for a drink with his two coworkers. Who knows? I just have to wait to find out.

 

* * *

 

   Don’t ask me how or when I ended up falling asleep, I’ve no idea. All I know is that some sort of noise just woke me up…the fucking front door! Someone’s coming, I need to hide. I scramble from the couch and duck behind the kitchen counter that separates the later from the living room. The door opens and someone steps inside. I can hear footsteps and something else hitting the floor repeatedly: a cane. A motherfreaking cane! Dude, do you get what this means?! I’m sorry for calling you ‘dude’, I honestly don’t know what gender you are, is the habit I guess. Anyhow…I WAS RIGHT!!! All along, I was right. Oh my god, I knew it, I knew it! If I could I would be dancing right now. You have no idea how happy I am at this very moment. Matthew Murdock IS Daredevil. If you thought it was already obvious, or if you didn't, let me clear it all out for you: this  _is_  Murdock's apartment (and this just got confirmed by the man himself), and the door from which Daredevil went out the building is the  _same_  one I used to get inside. Get it now? I’ll accept your congratulations, thank you. Although, if the twin theory turns out to be true (as unlikely as it seems), it would explain why I saw the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen exiting the building and Matt Murdock returning to it. When the fuck did he change? Does he really have a twin brother? It’s hard to imagine, at least for me. Does he works as a lawyer too and has like, a dull name? You know, like Mike Murdock or something. How stupid. I hope he's an only child. Then again, if he's not, there's the possibility of a threesome...

   My party comes crashing down when he steps further into his home and stands still right in front of me, facing me. Fuck. Shit, fuck. Fuck. He knows; he sees me. I’m screwed (I wish I was, literally, by him). Not the right moment for this kind of thoughts. He stares down at me and I feel like he’s boring a hole into my skull. This is so awkward.

   “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” His tone is cold as the kiss of death, his stare is serious. If I speak I might dig up my own grave, if I don’t it’ll end up being the same way. My best option right now is to elaborate a strategy that will get me to make him admit what I know. He’ll still be pissed, but a little distracted.

   “How did you know I was here? I was completely quiet and still”. I try to cleverly unmask him the best I can. He couldn’t have known I was here without his special abilities, right? He looks taken aback for a moment, either by my insightful question (again, pun intended, I think…) or by recognizing my voice. If it’s the last case (which sure is, even a normal blind can distinguish voices), then it won’t be pretty for me.

   “Mackenzie?!” He sounds shocked, perplexed maybe. Kind of horrified if you ask me (I’m aware you didn’t, by the way). He has a mildly exasperated expression on his face, filled with more surprise than irritation. Guess that’s better. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” It really isn't. “How did you even know where I live?” Crap.

   “Well…” I got nothing, no excuse or lie to tell him and get myself out of this mess. Fuck, I should’ve thought better about all of this before coming here. If I ever had a chance to hook up with him (as depraved as it sounds; stop judging me) is sure gone now, lost in the ether of impossibility. I honestly don’t believe I can make things worse than they are now. Hm, I shouldn’t have said that…

   “Have you been stalking me?” Now I’m at the bottom of the shithole. I didn’t only dig my grave; I nailed the coffin shut as well. There’s no coming back from this. There isn’t a case scenario where he still smiles at me with all the joy in the world. Geez, what am I even talking about? Did I really get this corny? Damn that man.

   “If I say yes…” He swears and covers his face with his hands before I can finish my sentence. “Wait! I got a good reason for doing it, I think…”

   “Oh, really? Enlighten me then”, he bites back, furious and scandalized. He’s so sexy when he’s mad. Stop. I need to focus on the task at hand, there’s plenty of time to fantasize about whatever I want once this is settled (I don’t think this can be saved, so I don’t know why I'm even bothering anymore). I’m speechless. His inquiry took away my capability to talk, to invent, and misguide. Nothing comes up in my head that I can use to explain to him what I’ve been doing all this time; except for a stupid idea, like always. Let’s suppose for a second that I’m wrong, for any reason whatsoever, and he’s not Daredevil (like for example, that the twin theory is true). If that’s the case, then I’ll be an asshole for doing what I’m about to do. But, if it works, then he’ll have some explaining to do.

   He’s staring hard at me, I know despite the red glasses that he’s still wearing, and waiting for me to answer. I grip tightly the metal stick in my hand and I throw it at him. He doesn’t even flinch; he just catches it before it hits his face. Gotcha Matt. You lose, I win.

   Matt looks at me in open disbelief, stunned and petrified. He doesn’t know what to say, opening and closing his mouth several times. He looks at the stick now in his hand, like it was some alien object. His surprised expression turns serious again; down to business then.

   “I noticed you following me a while back; I should have confronted you then. Not so you couldn’t find out, but so you wouldn’t get hurt. It’s because you were following me that you got shot. It’s my fault…” He’s so conflicted about all of this, I can’t stand it. It’s not his fault, it never was. I chose to do this and to keep doing it even after being almost killed.

   “Stop right there. I’m the only one responsible for my decisions and mistakes. It wasn’t like I’d never been hurt before”. And it’s true. I was already battling against death (in the form of bullies) every day. What is a little more? It’s nothing; not really and not at the end. I don’t regret what I did, what I do. I love it and I’m proud of it. I can’t quit now that I’m better at it.

   “You’re right; I just never thought that it would end this way. I didn’t expect you to get this far. I should’ve known better”. The tone of his voice sounds disappointed and sad. Why? Is he still feeling guilty? Gosh, what can I do to make him stop? I hate to see him like this. Can I get ‘happy Matt’ back? I like him better.

   “I know that this is all screwed up, but I want to thank you. You know, for saving me twice. And I also will like to apologize for breaking in. The door on the rooftop was unlocked”. I smile apologetically but I’m not sure if he can see it or not (we’re talking about Daredevil, it’s obvious that he sees more than he lets on). He smiles too, sadly again. Guess he’s not really happy about it, the part where I was in danger, not the one where he saves me from it. Nevertheless, his mood appears to lighten a little bit. Ten points to Gryffindor! Or ten points to me...? Shut up.

   “My pleasure; and it’s my fault for not locking it in the first place. Don’t worry about that, just never do it again unless it’s important. So, now that you know I suppose there's no use in trying to hide it anymore. Why don’t we sit so we can chat more comfortably?” Yes, please. God! The ‘my pleasure’ almost got me melting. Such a charmer he is. And, did he just say that I can come here again? Sweet baby Jesus. He motions to the couches in the middle of the room and leaves his cane over the kitchen counter. Am I going to see Matt Murdock moving without a cane? Hell yeah, he’s a total badass.

   He sits on the couch and I take the one positioned in front of him. This is so intimate. Just the two of us, sitting in a dark room, with only the light from the giant screen outside illuminating enough so we’re able to see each other’s faces. Well, actually the light only helps me. He can "see" me in complete darkness. Matt takes his blazer off, leaving it in the backrest of the couch, and loosens his tie. I’m crossing my fingers so this ends up differently. What? Can’t a girl get laid these days? You’re right; my expectations are way too high, I’m sorry. I’ll just shut up for now and let him speak. “So…are you going to tell me about all this?” I say waving my hand around like he could see me doing it.

   “I couldn’t stop you before, and I guess it won’t be a different case now, so let’s start from the beginning”.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, seems like they're getting along pretty well, doesn't it?
> 
> To be completely honest, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just letting myself get carried by my ideas and it's turning out like this. Hope it doesn't suck too much.
> 
> Like always, let me know what you think if you'll like. I'll try my best to fix any errors that there might be. Thank you for reading and being patient with me. <3


	4. Tell me who you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wonder what feels better: Matt's soft skin or his silk bed sheets...
> 
> Maybe I should try both at the same time, to make a comparison and decide. Just saying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry for the late update. I hope that the quantity and quality can compensate and are worth the wait. At least things seem to start looking up for our beloved* protagonist.
> 
> *I don't know about you, but I do love her, and I think that that's enough for me (not trying to diss anybody, just expressing my feelings). ;)
> 
> PD: I wanted to post this on Valentine's Day but finishing it, correcting it and editing it took me way longer than I thought. Sorry, again. :S <3

 

  “That’s it.” He told me everything; from the accident that left him blind to this night's fight. As it turns out, there wasn’t a twin brother. He came back while I was sleeping and noticed me on the couch. At first, he didn’t recognize me, but since he considered me to not be a threat, he changed back into his normal clothes and went out the front door only to come back in. It was in part because he thought that if I was there it meant that I knew him somehow. So in order to protect his secret identity, he changed. Seems a bit silly to me, but I understand his reasoning. “Now that I told you my story, would you tell me yours?”

  His gaze is fixed on me, his eyes looking downwards. I’m sitting on the armrest at his right side; I’ve moved here after I finished patching him up. As it turns out, during the fight that he endured tonight he got a bunch of wounds and cuts all over his body. Since I was already here, I offered my aid. After all, I’ve been doing the same on myself for a long time now. I’m not perfectly good at it, but the stitches are holding up nicely and he isn’t bleeding all over the place anymore. The first indication I got was from the red spots on his white dress shirt. He thought that he could hide them beneath his jacket, but he took it off.

  I freaked out a little when I saw  _how many_ wounds he had, but I worked quickly so he wouldn't lose more blood. To be honest with you, my hands trembled a bit, but not because of what I was doing. The cuts were on his arms and torso, back and front. So yeah, you guessed it; I’d the opportunity of seeing  _and_  touching his abs (basically all of his upper body). It was heaven. Thank you, God. Anyway, as I stitched him up, he kept his eyes glued to the ceiling. His expression was blank, but I saw the way his jaw was set and his nostrils flared while he tried to bear the pain. Despite my best intentions, it still hurt. It made me feel guilty about enjoying so much being able to touch him. I didn’t voice my opinion of this particular situation. I know I’m a pervert, but I don’t want him to think that way about me.

  Sorry, got carried away for a second. As I was saying, I’m sitting close to him, leaving some comfortable space between us. I don’t want to seem more intrusive (I  _did_ break into his house after all) that I already am. Matt is patiently waiting for me to begin telling my story. Guess I should start from the beginning. Here we go. “Since I was little I always loved to read and learn. I spent most of my time reading about different topics and practically anything I could get my tiny hands on. It’s something that my father taught me, amongst other things. Of course, my chosen ‘hobbies’ weren’t appealing to my classmates. I didn’t have many friends while growing up, but I managed nevertheless. The important thing is that I suffered two kinds of treatments because of my preferences. On one hand, I was teased by most of the class, on the other, I was bullied for it. The larger, stronger, and dumber kids wanted a piece of my knowledge; either by having me do their homework or giving them the answer to the tests.”

  I pause for a second, feeling a little overwhelmed by what I’m about to say next. He notices my sudden silence and tilts his head in my direction, raising his eyebrows in concern. “My father was a cop, a good one. He taught me about being honest and always doing the right thing. So for me, helping those lazy kids was like helping criminals or something like that.” A chuckle escapes me, bitter and sad. Remembering my father, and the lessons that I learned from him always bring tears to my eyes. “I refused to comply, every time. They didn’t take that too well, so they started to beat me once and again. No matter how many times they did it, no matter how much it hurt, I never gave up. I’m as stubborn as my dad. I wasn’t happy, but at least I didn’t felt filthy for helping them. My parents were super worried and proud at the same time. It was bizarre, to say the least.”

  “What happened to your father?” Matt asks quietly, staring up at the ceiling once more. A lonely tear rolls down my cheek and I try to steady my breathing. I miss him so much. He was my best friend, always helping me and teaching me about life. My heart broke when he died, but it was way worse for my mom. She lost her soul mate and her life went downhill from there. Sometimes I think that she married the asshole as a way of punishment. She still blames herself for his death, so I stopped trying to convince her otherwise a long time ago. She never listened to me.

  “He was killed ten years ago, by a drug dealer, while he was on duty. He tried to help the scumbag, but he didn’t care about anything else than escaping.” I can’t keep the sadness and rage from my voice. With my hands clenched I take a deep breath, the intent of calming down and re-assuming my story pretty clear. I fail pathetically, having a couple of tears fall down and wet my face in the process. Like he could hear the sound of the falling tears, he turns to face me. His face shows a mixture of sadness and preoccupation. I look at his eyes and think I can see them glass over, but I’m not sure. “The only things that he left behind, that I could keep, are all the things that he taught me and that I learned from him: to be honest, rightful and remain true to myself; most importantly, to never give up or give in. I followed these teachings all my life and I’ll continue to do so. It’s the only way I can really remember him.” Matt looks at me with sympathy and smiles softly with half-lidded eyes. We both feel the same, having a similar story. He knows perfectly how I feel about this. It’s comforting talking to someone who understands.

  “He sounds like a good man.” He comments in almost a whisper, curving the corners of his lips just enough to arch his mouth upwards. My father was a good man, a great man indeed. I never met someone better than him, either as a person or as a police officer. I no longer trust any cop. They were already quite corrupted back in the day, but now? I can’t begin to tell you how  _much_. Matt knows this, even more, having fought against them multiple times. Now and then, I suspect about my father’s death not being an accident. But how could I know? Maybe someday I’ll find the truth.

  “He was. He inspired me in so many ways, just like you did. That night, when you saved me for the first time, you changed my life. I was used to being abused; I let it happen over and over, lying on the floor and waiting for it to end, every time. But that night, in the alley, everything changed. I realized that it didn’t have to be that way anymore, that I could do something about it. It took me some days to decide to start taking self-defense classes at the local gym, but when I did I felt better. I swore to myself that I would never let that happen to me again. So far, I fulfilled that promise. My mom says, despite the anger and fear, that my father would be proud of me for standing up against those who are stronger than me.” His smile is rewarding; like if he were proud of me too. I wish it was the case, but I’m really not sure. Matt motions with his right hand, telling me to keep talking. “They still were bigger and stronger, but my small body provided more agility and speed. I also learned how to throw some good punches and kicks, giving one hell of a fight before going down. They won the fight, of course, but they’ve never won the battle.”

  I feel a bit silly, talking this way like I’m the captain of a cavalry or something of that sort. Laughing at my own thoughts, Matt turns his head curious at the reason that made me start giggling all of the sudden. His look of confusion only manages to make me laugh louder for a second before it dies down. “Fighting for me wasn’t enough, so I started defending other kids who lacked the courage or the skills. After that I kind of became like the teenage Daredevil, fighting against bullies to aid the weak children and teens in need of protection. It’s not much, but as long as I can help, I’ll keep doing it.”

  Matt’s smile widens, showing two rows of perfectly shaped white teeth. If all it takes it’s to be beaten while those attacked escape, I don’t mind being hurt. “You really care about those kids, huh?” It sounds like a question, but it’s more of a statement. I nod in response, supposing that he can pick it up as a signal of affirmation. Since he doesn’t ask again, I assume he saw me move my head. “I can’t say that it makes me happy that you put yourself in the line of danger like that, Mackenzie, but I understand. You like to help others, just like me; even Foggy and Karen.” He throws the bomb like it’s no big deal. Damn it, I was hoping that he hadn’t figured that out yet. He stares at me with a smug face, full of disappointment. “Feel like telling me about that?” I can hear that undertone saying ‘you better start talking’. It’s scary and exciting.

  “Like you just said, I like to help.” What a poor excuse. Seriously, it’s so lame. He doesn’t buy into it in the least bit. “Okay, fine, it wasn’t only because I wanted to help, it was part of my plan. You know; the one about finding out if you were Daredevil.” He looks at me disapprovingly, clearly upset that it worked out in the end. I think he’s also pissed about the fact that K&F kept this from him. “Sorry, about all of this. I know it was selfish to pursue you like that, but I became so obsessed with finding out, I just…” I lift my eyes from where they were staring at my fidgeting hands and meet his, a pair of dark pools that threaten to swallow me. I’m left speechless, enraptured by his gaze. Dear God in heaven, don’t let me fall any further for this man. Well, too late.

  “It’s dangerous, Mackenzie, even if what you do is talk with harmless people and investigate safe places. Someday, one of those persons or one of those places could turn the situation into a nightmare that you can’t get away from. Trust me, I know.” That ‘I know’ sounds so familiar to me. I guess that to you too. I feel like a child being scolded by an adult. It’s kind of like that. At least if we take into account that I act like a kid sometimes. I don’t blame him; if I could I would say the same to him. I hate to see him hurt just as much as he hates seeing me in the same state.

  “I know  _how_  risky it can be, but so far nothing bad has happened to me because of it. If you’re going to tell me off about something, then let that be the fact that I stalked you almost every night for over a month.” I try to make it sound funny (even knowing that it’s  _definitely_  not), but I only get a stern stare in return. His expression darkens considerably and he looks angrier than before. He might not be happy about having let me do that for so long. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up…

  “Perfect timing, Mackenzie, I was just about to bring that up.” Fuck. Thank God his superpower isn’t being able to kill someone just by looking at them, if it were I would be long dead by now. “I hope you’re smart enough to realize that that’s got to stop. You can’t follow me anymore, neither as Daredevil or as Matt Murdock, understood? This is not a game; you could get seriously hurt or even killed if you continue to do that. I can’t have you die because of me; I would never forgive myself if…” He comes to an abrupt end, not wanting to finish the sentence. I get it, he’s worried. He shouldn’t blame himself or take responsibility for whatever happens to me on my own accord, but I guess it can’t be helped. His eyes are watery again and it’s  _my_  fault. Shit, how do I fix this? “You have to promise me, Mackenzie, that you won’t follow me anymore. Please.” He sounds so torn and desperate, almost at the brink of crying, that it makes me reconsider all of this. If I hadn’t been so selfish, if I’d thought about him and the consequences of finding out his secret, then we wouldn’t be in this mess. I became so obsessed with him and his vigilante persona that I didn’t even take a second to think about the repercussions my findings could have.

  “Okay, I’ll promise, but with one condition.” He whips his head to the side, looking at me intently. His expression is full of uncertainty and doubtfulness. Matt’s eyes dart out from one side to the other, fleetingly fast. It's like the REM phase of sleep. He licks his lips, his mouth seeming to dry to let him speak clearly. He’s considering the two options at hand: he either listens to what I have to say or stays firmly put in his stance and doesn’t allow me to divert from his request. I don’t want to make his life any harder that it already is; I just want to make it easier. To help him out with whatever I can, like gathering information or patching him up. As the silence stretches on, I star to believe he won’t let me voice my offer of help.

  “What is it?” He says lowly but firmly. He sounds death serious; like he won’t give into any shitty requires that I make. He’s ready to turn me down if it’s necessary. Harsh. His eyes look death, like those of a fish, and his jaw is clenching so hard that I wonder how his teeth are not breaking from the pressure. I peek at his hands and I see them curling tightly, probably digging the nails into the flesh of his palms. If I didn’t know him better I would swear that he’s about to punch me in the face or something. Matt wants to protect me, and at the same time he seems like he’s ready to kill me…I’m not sure if I trust his judgment that much anymore.

  “I will not follow you anymore, in this I agree. But no matter  _what_  happens, you won’t push me away, okay?” I can feel all of my emotions coming to the surface. Shit, I’m about to cry. I can’t cry in front of him, it would tip me off. He can’t know how I truly feel about him; it would be even a stronger reason for him to pull away from me. I became so tangled with him and all of this that I know that losing him will be worse than death or torture. Yes, I admit it; I’m in love with him, so what? I didn’t choose to, it just sort of happened, and there’s nothing I can do to go back now. It is the way it is. And now that I'm looking at him, with his brows furrowed and staring at the floor even when half facing me, I understand that I fell for him since the night I met him as Daredevil. Please, Matt, I can no longer live without you.

  “Okay.” He says reluctantly, like fearing he’ll regret this choice. I hope he doesn’t, and I hope I’m not making a huge mistake by sticking at his side. He seems so vulnerable and fragile right now that I don’t want to touch him in case he’ll break. How much will this decision affect our lives? I don’t know. I’ll just cross my fingers in hope that everything goes smoothly, without shit hitting the fan. Sick of him gazing blankly at the ceiling above him, I scoot closer until I’m sitting right beside him. This startles him at first, but then he lifts his right arm and moves it over the backrest to embrace my shoulders. He squeezes a little and grins charmingly, demonstrating an evident change of mood. I cuddle against him, relishing in the warm of his body temperature and the smoothness of his skin (despite it being covered with cuts and scars almost everywhere). If someone told me a month ago that we would end up like this, I would’ve laughed in their face disbelievingly. I just can’t believe the familiarity with which he takes me in like this.

  We stay in a comfortable silence for a long time, each one busy with our own thoughts. It’s no doubt our “relationship” (whatever it  _is_ ) just changed majorly, considering that I know his secret and he knows…well, that I  _know_. I suck at explanations, sorry. Anyway, I lift my head a little so I can see his face and try to read what’s going on inside of his mind. I’m unsuccessful at this since his expression remains unreadable. Still, I wonder if he’s subtly doing the same with me.

  “You want to say something.” It’s all the warning that I have. Well, no shit Sherlock. There are a MILLION things that I  _want_  to say…but I can’t say any single one of them. Honestly, what am I supposed to do? To tell him that I love every single one of his different smiles: the sly one, the happy one or the shy one? Say that I get tingles all over my body when I see that familiar jaw twitch which is always a clear sign of his forthcoming wrath? Or maybe he would like to listen about how I melt every time that he tilts his head just the slightest bit as an indication of listening to something/someone or trying to understand what someone’s saying/what’s happening around him. I could go for hours on end about any physical aspect, and even more for all of his personality characteristics. He’s cute, and sweet, and lovely. His manners and chivalry are impeccable. He’s one of the nicest persons I’ve known in my entire life, besides one of the hottest and most beautiful. The list goes on, but the truth is I can’t speak about it to anyone, even less to him. If he finds out, it’s over. He can’t know that I’m in love with him,

  Matt appears to be worried by my extensive silence and stillness. He lowers his head a bit and searches my eyes with his own. I don’t know what he’s expecting to find. Unsolicited love, maybe? That’s the one and only reason to cut all ties with me. It makes me feel like a piece of trash, but right now I’m glad he’s blind. Then again, I’m never sure of  _how much_  he can actually see. So let’s change the subject and don’t give him the opportunity to find out about my love for him. “As we just established, our ‘ _friendship_ ’ will continue.” If he notices how I cringe when pronouncing the word, he doesn’t show it. “In the lights of this agreement, I would like to offer my help.” I stop to see his reaction. Matt looks mildly confused but he nods in encouragement for me to keep talking. “Taking in consideration that I already help out Foggy and Karen with information gathering about cases you guys work in, I thought that maybe Daredevil could use the same help. Nothing extremely dangerous, though, just talking to some people and looking around some places, that’s all.” I try to sound convincing, so he sees it as a good idea, but I fail roundly.

  His expression hardens and he looks sharply at me, showing every little bit of his disapproval. “Absolutely not, Mackenzie. The people Daredevil deals with are a thousand times more dangerous that those you have dealt with while working for Foggy. You’ve no idea what these people are capable of. They won’t only hurt you; they would torture you and then kill you to get information. Any person which you could get something significant out of, or any place for that matter, is the one _I_ take care of. To even think about it as a possibility is absurd.” His disbelieving tone of voice hurts a little. I only wanted to help, not to freak him out so much. It’s not like I was going to bluntly ask a mafia boss about his business and all, I just thought that I could make a bit easier his nighttime job. Take some responsibilities and worries off of him. He picks up on my dismay and softens slightly. “I suppose there could be something for you to help me out with,  _only_  if I deem the situation, individuals, and place safe enough for you to be in. This might not happen recurrently or even at all. You’ll have to be patient.” I smile victoriously and look up at him with big eyes full of gratefulness. Thank you! I swear I won’t let you down.

  “Really?” Matt nods once and a small smile decorates his features. How can I be graced with such an amazing human being? “Thank you. I mean it. And it’s not just about this, but about everything that you’ve done for me; all the way back to that first night in the alley, when you saved me from that bully and his father. If it weren’t for you Matt, I-I’ll probably wouldn’t be here right now, and I’m not talking about your house…I just-Thank you.” God, I’m this close to starting to cry like a baby, and he knows. Thankfully, he just smiles and pulls me closer to him, caressing softly my upper right arm. Feeling a bit confident, I let my head rest against the backrest, near his shoulder. If I moved closer, I could put my head on the crook of his neck. Damn, I want to do it so badly.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Mackenzie, I’m just glad that you’re okay.” Sitting like this, so close to one another, we stay still and stare at the opposite wall (the one that divides the living room from his bedroom). The sound of the rain pouring heavily lulls us into a state of complete serenity. This feels like Heaven, even by being right next to the Devil. I never want to get up or to let go.

  “Now that you refused my help in collecting information for Daredevil, there’s a second way of helping I’ll like to offer you.” He raises an eyebrow inquiringly, looking sideways at me. Geez, Matt, you know how sexy you look with that eyebrow raised? It makes me want to bite your neck…Trying not to blush at my lascivious thoughts, I look away from him and out the window in an attempt to calm my rapid heartbeats. If he notices it, I’m doomed. He could interpret it any way he wanted. “Well, as you witnessed tonight, I’m able to provide medical assistance. You know; in case you don’t have anyone else to call, you can always count on me. No matter what place or time, I’ll be ready to come running. I’m aware that my skills are not perfect, or decent at length, but I’ll still try my best so you don’t…die.” I finish painfully, feeling him wince at the mention of possible death. Let’s be realistic here, I could probably kill him way faster that any criminal just by messing up while I try to close a wound or something. It sucks, but I got nothing else useful to throw on the table. He considers it for a long time. In the meantime, he draws circles on the soft skin of my shoulder with the pad of his index finger. How sweet.

  “Alright, I accept your offer,” Matt says finally, turning his head so I can see his reassuring smile plastered on his face. YES! I’ll get the opportunity to touch his well-toned chest. Dayum! Imagine if I could touch him in other places, maybe his…“But only as a last resort. You’re right about your ability at stitching being awful.” I open my mouth and frown in astonishment. How dare he? It’s perfectly okay if  _I_  say it, but he has  _no_  right, after all the things I did for him…He laughs wholeheartedly, the noise a warm sound that fills me with happiness and ease. “I’m messing with you, I would be grateful even if you just stapled my wounds shut. Never do that, though.” He starts laughing again and is too damn contagious to resist. I end up giggling too, at the ridiculous idea of a cut being closed with staples.

  “I’ll only do it if you get cranky like before.” My grin is enormous, concealing how much I like to joke too. Matt looks outraged at my complaint, but he can’t find anything to say in order to defend himself from such accusation. It’s not entirely true, he did grunt and twitch in displeasure while I was doing my best in trying to stitch his wounds shut, but he behaved aside from that. I’m relieved that we’re now joking friendly instead of arguing heatedly. Although, if fiction is right, sometimes heated arguments can lead to…“Before I forget, there’s something I want to ask you.” Matt’s grin disappears, but he looks more curious than upset. Lifting slightly his eyebrows, he waits for me to voice said question. “I was thinking that maybe you could train me. You know, like Stick did with you.”

  He looks amusedly surprised, taken aback by my sudden request. “You want me to train you  _like_  Stick did with me?” He asks with an incredulous smile decorating his face and each eyebrow shot up. He knows that I don’t  _actually_  want that, but he can’t help himself at taking advantage of my wrongly posed question. Always the same Matt Murdock: waiting patiently to show anyone their wrongdoings.

  “You know  _perfectly_  well that that’s not what I meant. I’m just asking you to teach me a couple of moves and tips so I don’t get my ass so thoroughly kicked. Not looking up to learn the whole ninja thing. With a bit of improvement on my fighting skills, I think it'll be enough to beat the shit out of those bullies without having the same happen to me. What do you say?” I ask him nervously, a fleeting thought of him saying ‘no’ passing my mind like a shooting star. It went by fast, but I could still register it. If he declines, then I will keep getting my ass handed to me unless I manage to improve by myself (which seems unlikely, to say the least). “Like I said, I don’t want to be able to kick ass like Daredevil. I’m just interested in saving myself a bit of trouble and pain.” I continue eagerly, trying to get him hooked on the idea. He presses his lips together, staring into space as he thinks, mulling over his decision.

  “Fine, I’ll train you in the ancient art of kicking bully ass.” He says it so seriously that I skip a beat before starting to laugh hard enough to make breathing a difficult task. He follows in suit and has to grab his left side with his free hand to try to sooth the pain. As the laughs star to die down and I wipe the happy tears at the corner of my eyes, he sighs contently. His thumb is caressing my arm so lightly that I almost don’t register the action. It’s comforting and calming, his touch and his presence. I wish we could stay like this forever.

  “You know; if sometime in the future you think it might be necessary that I learn more about the whole fighting thing, then I’m open to it. Maybe it could turn out helpful for both of us.” He looks uncertain, surely believing it not to be essential or important. I don’t understand why he seems so reluctant to the idea. Is he afraid that the more I’m able to do the further I’ll go when defending the kids from their bullies? Or it’s something else entirely? “What’s wrong, Murdock? Frightened that I might go out full ninja mode on you and be capable of defeating you?” I try my hardest to sound threatening but I fail miserably and we both start laughing raucously. I clench my sides, unable to get air past my throat. Matt’s laugh is mixed with little yelps and groans of pain. It’s painful but we can’t stop. How silly we must look.

  “You’re right; I’ll hate to have you go full ninja mode on me, I wouldn’t be able to compete against that.” He laughs some more and I almost follow him, but I don’t have any oxygen in my lungs to spare. Tired and out of breath, I slump down on his right side, resting my head on his shoulder. I can feel him crane his head to the side I’m on, his jaw brushing against the top of my head. He’s probably either looking down at where my body or head would be (from his point of “view”; I don’t know if I can explain myself correctly), or he’s staring out the window at the rain still pouring outside. I’m lucky it didn’t start raining when I was still on the rooftop of the building across the street. Effectively distracting me, he removes his right hand from my arm and uses it to pet my head softly and soothingly. I feel like I can fall asleep any instant.

  He’s about to say something but I cut him unintentionally with a yawn. He frowns and tilts his head up, like searching for something. “It’s going to be dawn soon. We should go to sleep already.” His voice sounds serious, so I take it as a cue to leave. I don’t want to keep him awake anymore; I’ve got way more than what I initially came for. I push myself up and away from the couch, looking groggily and unhappily at the storm outside. Shit. When I get home I’ll be soaked to the bone, sporting an awful case of pneumonia in a few hours. Preparing myself for the long journey, I stretch from toes to fingertips. My back cracks nicely and I feel more tired than ever. He gets up a minute later.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Murdock. You better get yourself to bed as soon as possible; you’re still injured after all. I’ll walk myself out, so don’t worry about me.” He stops mid-stride towards his bedroom and turns fully to look at me. He’s showing the now frequent seen furrowed brow and stares at me quietly for a moment. Whatever he’s thinking about doesn’t seem nice. “Matt?” The call of his name is effective in bringing him back to reality. His eyebrows furrow more deeply and he opens his mouth halfway. A second passes and he closes it back, looking strangely insecure. I would almost say uncomfortable.

  “It's raining heavily outside, Mackenzie; you’ll definitely catch a cold if you go now under this weather.” He says blinking rapidly. Why is he fidgeting so much? He can’t be that worried about a mere cold, right? “Why don’t you stay here until the rain stops?” He’s frozen in place, looking expectantly at the floor near me. Did he just really ask  _that_? My mouth falls slightly open on its own accord. Does he  _really_  want me to  _stay_  in his house until the storm clears out from the sky? I don’t think so. Or at least I don’t believe he’s asking out of something else than plain courtesy.

  “It’s fine, Matt, I won’t die from a simple cold. I don’t want to be intrusive or…” I don’t want to be a  _bother_. You’re way kinder than anyone besides my mom; I couldn’t ask this much of you or let you offer it on your own. Besides, the more time I spend with you, the more I think I’m going to lose it. You’ve no idea how dangerous is for you to have me around. If you don’t want me to fall for you and to pursue you, then don’t drag me any closer. Reassure me is okay to sleep here and I won’t walk out of this ever. Tell me to stay and I will love you forever.

  “I don’t mind at all, Mackenzie. Actually, I’ll feel better if you stay. This way I’ll know that you didn’t die of pneumonia because of me.” That’s it, I’m way in too deep to leave now. I hope you can handle what you just got yourself into, Murdock. I can assure you it won’t be easy or pleasant (only in case he doesn’t return my feelings now or ever). Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. Well, I really didn’t warn him, but my argument about leaving should’ve been proof enough. If he didn’t pick all this up with his enhanced senses, then I feel sorry for him (yes, because now he has a crazily obsessed teenage stalker refusing to leave his life).

  “If you insist, then I’ll stay. But with one condition.” He lifts his eyebrows more in annoyance than surprise, clearly getting tired of my requests. He still motions with his hand for me to continue speaking, and looks at the ceiling with his dark eyes. Now that we’re both standing, and at a few feet one from the other, I can fully appreciate him in his current state. Aside from the hot pink and dark red wounds that I recently stitched up, he’s stunning. With a body well fitted and a handsome face, he’s what every woman will want in their bed above them. Completely naked and panting…

  “What condition?” He asks begrudgingly, already preparing himself for an idle demand. He shouldn’t, actually, what I’m about to say will be in his favor more than mine, honestly. Still, he stares at my warily and waits patiently for me to elaborate.

  “I take the couch.” For anyone with my point of view (despite my feelings for him) it would seem obvious that he’ll sleep in his own bed, but I know better than to entrust him such a significant decision. He’s a gentleman and, more importantly, he’s well aware of the screen outside his building despite his blindness. So, in trying to ensure that I sleep comfortably, he’ll take the couch. But I won’t allow it. He’s wounded, surely more tired than I am, and this is his house. Also, I wasn’t even invited, I broke in (and it doesn’t change anything the fact that he let me stay).

  “Mackenzie, I…” I hold up a hand and he shuts his mouth instantly. Told you, he  _can_  see better and more than I can. He’s scowling but seems to be too tired to argue further. Pointedly ignoring the look I give him when he opens his mouth once again to protest, he turns on his heel (purposely wearing some sort of pout on his face, or at least I presume as much) and disappears behind the sliding door that connects his bedroom with the rest of the apartment. Great, I won. Or that’s what I think until I see him turn back out the other room. I’m about to say something when I see that he’s carrying a blanket. He leaves it in the left armrest of the couch and wishes me a good night of sleep. Before he closes the sliding door, I wish him sweet dreams as well. I think I should tie myself somehow to the couch. Otherwise, I know for sure that I’ll end up curled against the firm and warm body lying on the bed. 

 

* * *

 

  The light coming through de uncovered windows wakes me up. I’ve never slept so well in my entire life. Matt’s bed is definitely one of the softest and most comfortable things in this world. The silk bed sheets and the mattress made of who knows what…they’re just to die for, but not as much as the man sleeping on them. Since we’re on this subject, I’ll admit there’s no one cuter looking while asleep than Murdock. He looks so…serene. In his sleep, there are no criminals to fight as Daredevil or defend as Matt Murdock. I wonder what he dreams of. He was able to see until he was nine, so I suppose he can see things when he’s dreaming. I’m not sure, maybe I can ask him later. At this very moment, I want to keep enjoying the stillness and tranquility that surrounds us. He’s laying on his back, with his head tilted to his right side. His bare chest rises and falls slowly every time that he breathes in and out. Matt’s face shows how well he rested, completely calm and relaxed. I need to keep myself in check so I don’t trace his prominent jaw line with one of my fingers, feeling the rough stubble and the bone beneath it. After scratching it a little, I would continue my path down his exposed throat and over his hairless and rock hard chest. I’ll stop there a second longer, tracing the well-defined muscles including his pectorals and abs. And from there I would go further down to…

  “I see that you changed your mind about sleeping on the couch.” His sudden comment startles me. Was he awake all this time? Did he notice me gawking at him? Oh, Jesus, I’m screwed. His eyelids flutter open lazily and he stares at me, or actually to my chin. In the bright light of the day, I get a better look at his eyes color. They’re a moldy shade of green mixed with a chocolaty tone of brown, how utterly beautiful. Matt wets his lips and raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting patiently for my response. Fuck. He caught me red handed. I was supposed to get up  _before_  he woke up, not after. He doesn’t seem pissed, just curious. Maybe a bit put off. You can never know with him, being all unreadable and shit.

  “Well, I’m, uh…” So smooth and clever, am I not? As always: do first, think later. If I were to fight real criminals, I wouldn’t die because of the lack of skills, but the lack of planning. He’s still waiting for me to come up with something to say, to explain my actions. Would saying ‘I just wanted to sleep with you because I love you’ work? I don’t think so. He’ll probably kick me out of the bed before I can even get away from it. Besides, the position I’m currently in isn’t helping my case. Basically, I’m lying right next to him, so close I can feel him. I have my chest almost pressed flush against his right side. “Felt lonely?” So pathetic it hurts.

  “Are you telling me or asking me?” He asks confused, but with an amused tone. Thankfully, he’s taking the whole situation lightly. I don’t want to imagine what he would’ve said if he was  _displeased_  about this. How fortunate for me, right? Do not worry my friend; I know you secretly root for us. After a-longer-than-normal silence passes, he half smiles and stretches like a cat on top of the bed. Sweet baby Jesus, those muscles contractions are so…

  “I’m telling you.” He cracks open one of his recently closed eyes and looks at me smugly, clearly picking up on the strain of my voice. Damn it, Murdock, it’s not fair. You shouldn’t get to appear so ravishingly delicious while in front of me, it makes me want to do  _things_ …“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have intruded like this on your bedroom, and even less on your own bed. It was just that…the light coming from outside, from the screen and the lightning bolts, and the constant sound of the rain didn’t let me sleep. I thought that maybe here it would be better. The idea of waking you up to let you know crossed my mind, but at the end, I decided against it because you were so tired that I didn’t want to interrupt your deep sleep.” I hope I sound convincing enough.

  “It’s fine, I offered you to use my bed for a reason. So, I take it that you slept well then, right?” He smiles faintly, moving over the edge of the left side so he can get up. Watching him move with such ease like this is…amazing. It’s like he wasn’t blind at all, even when he’s unable to use his eyes. He grabs a black t-shirt from his closet and throws a baby blue button up at me. I catch it and look at it with clear confusion, later directing my silent question at him. My eyes meet his, but they meet my jaw (I think?). “I thought you might want to wear something more comfortable. Sorry, I should’ve offered it last night.” He says apologetically, looking kind of embarrassed.

  “It wasn’t necessary, thank you anyway.” He nods and walks out to the kitchen. His stride appears to have regained its normality. Good, that means he’s no longer under scrutinizing pain. I pull off my long-sleeved shirt and put on the one he gives me. As I button it up, I step out into the living room. Matt’s apartment looks so different in broad daylight. It’s cozy, though.

  I’m about to open my mouth and ask him a question when he beats me down to it. “If you want to use the bathroom it’s to your right, next to the staircase.” I’m starting to wonder more and more if his real power is telepathy. How could he know? Is borderline creepy. On the other hand, it can be quite useful. I nod in thanks and start scurrying to the bathroom door. Before entering, I stop. I turn around in order to ask him first. Should I take a shower? Would it be a good decision or a bad one? I mean, he could walk in at any given moment…

  “Do you mind if I use the shower?” He shakes his head no and, with a sort of playful: “knock yourself out”, grants me permission. Don’t make me walk out stark naked, Murdock! Because if you do…then I don’t know what would happen. I keep creating these stunningly sexual scenarios of “what’s if”; but in reality, none of them would occur. It’s heartbreaking to say the last. Not the sexual part of it, but the whole essence of being together. That’s never going to happen, and it’s sad. I don’t mean to sound like an asshole and assume that you get how awful it feels to love someone who doesn’t love you back; I just hope that you understand me. I don’t want to be alone in this and I can’t tell anybody. If he can figure it out by analyzing me (I’m not even sure if he already did or not), it’ll be more easy to discover it through another person. I hate this situation so much.

  Having waited until the water warmed up nicely, I stand exhaustedly under the stream of the shower. I could sell my soul in order to be in here with him behind me, gently caressing my back and sides while kissing softly from my shoulder all the way to my neck. If I were at my house, there would be a hand between my legs by now. What a luscious torture that is this pleasure I feel; I wish to bask in the sinful confines of it.

  Once I come out of the shower the smell of freshly cooked food invades my nose and makes my stomach growl in anticipation. God, that smells good. I didn’t know he could cook. No, I’m not being condescending, there are a lot of people who can see that don’t know how to even boil water. Apparently, he can do more than that.

  “What is it? It smells delicious. Or maybe I’m just hungry.” He cracks a grin and puts two plates full of pancakes on the round table. He lets me sleep on his couch (and then on his bed) and makes breakfast. Is he just being nice or trying to repay me for last night’s help? Whichever it is, I’m fine with either of them. I could eat a whole cow right now. Last time I ate was yesterday’s lunch. I think he can tell that much from the drool falling down my chin. How inelegant of me.

  “Well, I hope that despite my lack of sight I didn’t spoil the food. No matter how hungry you are; bad taste can ruin your appetite.” He says with a sheepish smile while he pulls the kettle out of the coffee machine. “Do you drink coffee or…?” I jerk my head once before he finishes the question and he pours the dark and bitter liquid in two mugs. I don’t  _like_  coffee, but I need it to survive my lifestyle. With all the stalking and chasing and fights…I wouldn’t be able to do that without caffeine to keep me awake.

  “Thank you for the food, you didn’t have to.” Matt shrugs and hands me one of the white mugs. He sits down next to me, at my right, and starts drinking. I suppose he lives off of the brown liquid too. “And, just for the record, I believe firmly that what you said about being blind making it hard to cook well is absolute bullshit.” He lifts an eyebrow at my chose of phrasing but doesn’t comment on it. He shows a thankful smile and starts digging into his plate. I should follow suit before I pass out or something. Mmm, truly exquisite, best pancakes I ever ate. My delighted moan must have caught his attention because he’s looking strangely at me. “What I meant was,” I say with a mouthful of squashy and marvelous cake of batter, “that  _because_  you’re blind and have enhanced senses your cooking skills are way better than normal people. You possess a very delicate and refined sense of taste, which comes in handy while cooking. If you weren’t a lawyer, I would tell you to pursue a career as a gourmet chef. Although, I don’t think they would trust you that much, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell them about your ‘special abilities’. It’s just a though, don’t listen to me.”

  “I like listening to you. There’s something about hearing the sound of your voice that…puts me at ease. I don’t really know how to explain it and I know it’s weird but, it’s just the way it is.” He struggles a little while he says this, feeling a bit awkward when saying it. He’s the cutest. It isn’t weird at all, is very sweet and kind. Jesus, Murdock, stop it! I can’t handle so much darn cuteness, it’s killing me softly (see what I did there?). 

  “Seriously? I could’ve never thought that. It would never cross my mind that someone feels comfortable around me. I mean, apart from my mom. Everybody else hates me or doesn’t give a shit.” I’m such a whiney little bitch. Come on, Mackenzie! You’re sitting right next to Matt Murdock while eating the breakfast that  _he_  made for you. It is not the time to get all depressed and melancholic. Look what you did! You erased the beautiful smile out of his face. Now he’s frowning and staring at you with concern and pity written all over his features. Good job, really! Moron…

  “I can assure you that your mother isn't the only one, Mackenzie. Karen, Foggy and I feel not only comfortable being around you, but we feel happy as well. I know, I noticed the positive change that you provoke in them. They’re always happier after seeing you, and I don’t think it has to do exclusively with the work that you do for them. So don’t berate yourself too much.” I’ll never get tired of seeing him smile; exuding so much charm like it wasn’t hard at all. How does he manage to maintain that? He’s always flippantly showing off his handsomeness and smugness. Damn him and his perfect…everything. Ugh, I hate to love him.

  “Thank you, Matt, that means a lot to me. I’ll keep trying my best so those opinions never change.” I smile entirely enraptured by his gorgeousness. It should be illegal to be  _that_  pretty. Then again, if  _it were_  against the law, I wouldn’t be able to see him like this.

  “Mackenzie…” He calls my name and I come down to Earth once again. Was I staring stupidly at him while daydreaming? Shit. I make a humming noise, in the pose of a question, and he nods, acknowledging the return of my attention. He’s obviously trying not to laugh at how I was spacing out. “There’s something that I’d wanted to know for a long time now, and I would like you to tell me about it.” I gaze at him suspiciously and cross my fingers with discretion. Or I least I think I’m being discrete. I can already imagine how this conversation will go, with an alarming “do you have feelings for me”, or something of that like. Well, I’m doomed. “Could you please tell my  _how_  you figured out that I’m Daredevil. I’m not only curious but also concerned that someone else might do the same connection. If you get what I mean.” Phew, I was really scared for a second there. I think I almost shat my pants. Ew.

  “S-sure, if you want to know I’ll tell you; as long as I’m not keeping you away from anything else, of course.” I curse my stuttering at the beginning of the sentence. Geez, chill out Kenzie! Otherwise, he’ll pick up on your uneasiness. He tilts his head to the side, watching me intently. Oh God, he’s reading me. I need to distract him. “So, what do you want to know first?” He keeps staring at me for a couple of seconds and then grabs his mug. Without turning his head, he takes a sip and licks his lips, cleaning them from any residue of coffee. He must be doing it on purpose, there’s no other way…

  “Just tell me what your first indication was.” His voice is even, his breaths are slow. Good, the last thing I want is that he starts freaking out.

  “Okay, at first it was plain curiosity. After that night in the alley, the wish to see you again started to develop. It just appeared at random moments, until it became more frequent. Because I can’t make justice for my mother with my own hands, I began to think that maybe I could ask you to do it instead. It was farfetched, but I still hoped to find you again and tell you about it.” I look up at him and see his jaw twitch. His eyes are downcast, staring blankly at his food. “One day, I suddenly found myself watching the people that walked past me in an attempt to notice any detail that could match your appearance. Your suit only leaves half of your face uncovered, so I didn’t have much to work with. Still, there were some things I knew I could use to help me out. Your height and build are a good clue, not everyone has your same size and a fitted body. Those were just a couple of pieces of the puzzle; I got more as time went by. When I started to follow you, and as a consequence got the opportunity to watch you closer, I gathered other important details. For example, the bone structure of your jaw, and the stubble. Two more clues to help me solve the mystery.”

  Matt half smiles, but I notice that it doesn’t reach his eyes. I assume there are two reasons for this action: one, he’s internally praising me for my cleverness; second, his reprimanding himself for being so “stupid”. He’s not stupid, neither careless, I just pay way too much attention to certain details that other people dismiss as unimportant.

  “Those were the pieces I had, and even after using those to compare Daredevil with every male that matched the description I came empty handed each time. I used to have the feeling that something was missing each time that I searched for you amongst the street crowds. I didn’t know what it was until after meeting you at the precinct. That day, when I came inside the police station, I saw you with Foggy. Out of all the people that were there, you two caught my attention. And what surprised me the most is that you  _turned_  when I passed by. You were talking with Foggy, concentrated on the conversation. Neither of us three, including myself and the two cops dragging me, stumbled over you or even grazed you as we went to the interrogation room. So we didn’t get your attention out of touching you,  _I_ got your attention because you somehow  _knew_  what was going on, or at least to some extent.” I wait for his reaction, trying to measure his surprise. He looks quite impressed actually, raising both of his eyebrows and nodding appreciatively.

  “I began to talk with people who saw you as Daredevil, gathering all the information I could from their testimonies. They gave me plenty of material to continue my ‘investigation’. Most of it helped me pinpoint some relevant details that I already had. So far I knew that you were of average height, no offense; strong and fitted, you obviously had to work out and train in order to do all of that; you always wore a stubble in your face, only fluctuating the length of the facial hair; and you voice wasn’t either too low or too high, or so I’ve heard. Having those facts, I started to compare Daredevil with Matt Murdock, looking for all of the matching characteristics I could find. It was only then that I understood that feeling of having missed something important. What  _really_  was the common point? Justice.” Matt is staring at me with a confused expression, waiting for me to elaborate further. I wait a couple of minutes, letting the suspense stretch out and regaining my breath a little.

  “The few times I spoke with you, or actually listened to you, you always sounded so…righteous. Yeah, I know that you’re a lawyer and all that, but there was something different about it. Foggy didn’t have that sense of justice in his speech, at least not on the same level. I took great pleasure in noticing how pissed you were that day at the precinct after finding out  _why exactly_  I was there. It was different from what Foggy was feeling. He was more disappointed that angry, but you? You were furious. You even made me believe you were going to punch those cops in their faces for being so incompetent.” He shrugs, trying to appear calm, but the jaw twitch says otherwise.

 “Backing a bit in the story, I made an important connection between your first reaction in the police station and one night I followed you to a warehouse. In that occasion, I was hiding behind some barrels so I could watch without being noticed. At the end, it didn’t work out that well, did it? I’m asking you because you  _saw_  me there that night. If I’m wrong, disprove me then.” I stop so he can answer me. After a court nod of his head, I reassume the story.

  “Right. So, things really hit home when I sort of discovered the blind factor. This was something that I got with all the information provided by the witnesses I spoke to. The first time I met you, you already had your new suit; so I didn’t know the old one. Some of the guys that I talked to told me about it. What really interested me was your mask. It covered your eyes completely and it didn’t have any holes you could use to see. I assumed this, and two or three persons seconded it, but the material from which the mask was made…it wasn’t see-through, right?” He exhales forcefully, somewhat disturbed by my cunningness. I feel so fucking smart right now. Also, I feel bad for him. Matt must be internally screaming at himself right now, for being obvious to the extent that a teenage girl can figure out his secret.

  “It wasn’t,” was his silent reply. Matt’s gaze is fixed on the mug tightly held between his hands. He’s tense and seemingly unhappy. At this point, I’m starting to think he’ll only get more worked up as I continue my story. There’s nothing I can do, he wanted to know.

  “That’s what I presumed. Now, how could a normal guy see with such a mask? It seems impossible; unless he didn’t  _need_  to see. One of the many few things that caught my attention was what people told me about your skills. Aside from the whole ninja stuff, a lot of them said that you seemed to know or predict what the criminals were doing or going to do. You were able to dodge punches and kicks easily, even if they came from behind you. How it’s that possible for someone who can’t see through the mask he’s wearing? A person like this must have a very accurate sense of hearing; more importantly, said person would have needed to train his hearing to the point that he can use it while being blindfolded, like a blind person. But then, why would a nonblind person train themselves like that? Why hone their senses to the extreme of being able to use them while not seeing? Maybe, whoever was Daredevil didn’t need to train them so he could fight while wearing a mask he couldn’t see through and that covered half his face. Maybe, just maybe, he was  _actually_  blind.” Matt winces slightly, looking away in the direction of the kitchen at his right. Sorry, Matt, I know I’m sounding like a smug asshole, but I can’t help myself.

  “From there, I started to put all the pieces together; the physical aspects, the personality aspects, and so on. By this point, I knew for sure some things while I theorized some others. Daredevil was fitted, strong and of average height; had a defined jawline, thin lips and stubble; his voice was in the middle of the spectrum between high and low; he had a righteous sense of justice; he was capable of fighting like a freaking ninja, mostly using his own body as his weapon; he used a mask which he couldn’t see through; had enhanced senses and was apparently blind.  _Now_  I know that I was right about all of that, but at that moment half of the characteristics in my constructed description were mere conjectures.” Taking a pause to drink and eat before everything gets too cold for my taste, I study him closely. He takes this as an opportunity to busy himself with something else and stands up with the mug and plate in his hands. As he walks to the kitchen to clean the dishes, I notice the stiffness on his stride. I’m not sure if that’s a consequence of what I’m telling him or just the soreness of his body.

  “Like I said in the beginning; this new ‘clue’ ruled out a lot of people for the position of being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. If my theory was correct, I needed to search for blind people who matched the description. I only found one.” Matt stops what he’s doing and stares directly at me. It almost looks like his eyes are trained on mine. Then again, from this distance, it’s hard to tell. “Matt Murdock, my very own lawyer who saved my ass from being arrested after doing the right thing. What a coincidence!” With an ironic and wicked grin, I look up at him. He furrows his brow and presses his lips on a thin line.

  “You _did_ get arrested.  _Foggy_  and I just got you out of there faster than it would normally take.” He says with a matter-of-fact tone, probably regretting to some level having helped me out. He’s not that wrong, me figuring out his secret it’s basically a threat to him and the people he cares about.

  “You still got the point. So, after making this wild and far-fetched connection, I started to follow you during the day. I tried to get definitive proof, but it took me longer than I initially thought. Considering it now, it wasn’t a bad thing, at least when it concerns you. You would be more pissed if I found out sooner.” My tone is cautious, like if I were talking to a bewildered animal. His frown deepens, making him look more offended than angry.

  “I’m not mad at you Mackenzie.” He says in sort of a clipped tone. Yeah, right. Good acting, Murdock. I think you should stick to the blind lawyer part, you’re better at it than trying to lie.

  “Well, maybe not at me, but you’re definitely angry about this whole situation. I don’t blame you, you have all the right to be upset and to scold me for my actions, but first let me finish my story.” He shuts his mouth and waits for me to continue. Fortunately, Matt seems to have relaxed a bit. “Last night, I was at my usual spot in the rooftop from across the street, waiting patiently for you to come out as Daredevil. Once I saw you walk out the door and start running over other buildings rooftops, I sneaked inside your apartment. I came in to find proof that I was right, hoping that you wouldn’t be here and when you eventually came back, you’ll do it in your Daredevil suit. There was a moment, in the middle of my paranoiac freak out, when I came out with a new and bizarre theory. It was like a last resort safety net, in case you were here or you got back normally dressed; I considered that you could have a twin brother.” Matt appears to be highly surprised and amused by my weird reasoning. I would be too if I weren’t myself. What kind of theory is that even? Geez, it’s so stupid.

  “You thought I had a twin brother?” He grins broadly and chuckles a little. Stop laughing at me, Murdock, it's plausible.

  “I  _theorized_  it; I wasn’t assuming it or anything. Like I said, it was just for insurance.” I say defensively. Yes, it  _is_  ridiculous, but not impossible. “I even had a possible name for him and all.” Using my best ‘kicked puppy’ tone of voice, I hope that he’ll take pity on me and my strange course of thinking. He just keeps laughing at how dumb I am. Rude.

  “And what was it, Mike Murdock?” He means it as a joke, or at least I hope so. How the hell did he know? That’s so fucking creepy; definitely, the more disturbing thing that he had said or done. It gives me the willies.

  “Y-yeah. How did you know? You’re not a telepath, are you?” Matt’s giggling comes to a sudden stop. He’s looking perplexed at me, with his mouth and eyes wide open and his eyebrows trying their best to reach his hairline. So he  _was_  joking then. This can’t just be a coincidence, right?

  “Wait, you  _really_ picked that name for my supposed twin brother? I said it jokingly, I didn’t new…” Oh,  _oh_. Well, this is kind of awkward, isn’t it? Changing the subject, what are your thoughts about all this so far…? Um, right, this is a one sided thing. Sorry, I keep forgetting, never mind.

  “Yes, I was kidding when I did it. How did  _you_  come up with the same one?” Matt opens and closes his mouth multiple times, getting nothing out.

  “Claire used to call me Mike, back when she didn’t know my real name.” He seems saddened by this. Why? When he spoke about her yesterday night he did it casually. Why is she so important all of a sudden? Is Matt…?  _No_.

  “Oh, right, I see. Anyway, it was stupid. After that, you already know what happened, because you were there of course. That’s all.” I try so damn hard to maintain my composure and the tone of my voice even, so it doesn’t waver. I fail, miserably, and I think that my voice never sounded more strangled than now. Oh God, not this. Please, not  _this_. He can’t find out, especially  _now_  that I know…That I know… “Sorry, I should go. My mom will start to freak out the longer I stay out and my stepfather will take his anger out on her. Thanks for everything, Matt; I’ll see you…later.” In an attempt to get out as soon as I can, I go back to his room and change quickly back into my shirt and shoes. Fuck, I really need to leave before he can stop me and decipher my…

  “Mackenzie, wait! What’s wrong? Why are you leaving so suddenly?” He looks so concerned and I rather wish that he didn’t, it just makes this way more painful for me. Please, Matt, just let go of me…just for now.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve to go. Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong, I promise. I just don’t want that my mother suffers because I’m having a good time. We’ll talk in a few days. See ya.” Before he can grab hold of my arm and stop me, I bolt out the front door. Fucking hell! It was going so perfectly, why did I have to screw everything up?! Such a worthless piece of trash I am. How could I believe there wasn’t someone in his life that…he had feelings for? Hell, Claire must be his goddamn girlfriend. I’m a total moron for thinking that he would eventually fall for me. Deep inside me, I knew this was going to happen and still went after him like if I’d the right to. I warned myself,  _weeks_  ago, that it was a terrible idea to get close and attached to this man. Did I listen? Of fucking course not! I’m a joke, and he’s probably laughing at me right now. I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back. Fucking great!

  All this time, I always told myself how impossible it’ll be for him to return my feelings. And guess what? I was right! All along, I was right. Now, I'm stuck in this. It’s like I’m swimming in a pool filled with shit. No, is even worse, I’m  _drowning_  in that pool. How could I let this happen? How could  _you_  let this happen? Why didn't you warn me about this, huh? Was it too much to ask, for you to help me avoid falling into this whole mess? Thank you, really! I hope you’re feeling great, you fucking-Stop! Jesus, Mackenzie, what’s wrong with you? I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry. There’s no one to blame besides myself, I know. I’m just…heartbroken. And all I want right now is someone to tell me that everything it’s going to be alright, even if that’s just a lie.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, each chapter is becoming longer than the previous one, that's why it takes me longer to update. I know that asking for patience might be too much, but I'm doing the best I can (even if it doesn't seem like it).
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and let me know what you think about it and the story so far. If you find any errors that I missed, tell me and I'll fix them. Thank you, truly, for reading. <3


	5. I can't handle the truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's the worst thing that could happen? Really now, I don't think I can screw this up more than I already did...
> 
> I never learn, do I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me for not updating in over 20 days! I'm really sorry, it's just that this chapter is 30 pages long and that's not as easy to write as one would think. I hope the more the better.
> 
> So, down to business. This chapter has a LOT of things going on. We finally get some action between our dear protagonists. Is not much but it's something. Aside from that, like in previous chapters, there's a fair amount of references not only pertaining to DDTV world, but to other tv shows, movies, songs, etc. Some are obvious, some are not. Hope that you can get 'em all!

 

  It’s been a week since I last saw Matt, back in his apartment. Even when going out to work on the new case that the lawyers are dealing with, I do everything I can to avoid him. Foggy and Karen, oblivious to what’s going on, think that I do it so Matt doesn’t find out that I’m working with them. If only they knew better… Anyway, he hasn't tried to meet me again,  which is weird. He didn’t know _why_ I left all of a sudden, and I want to believe that I didn’t seem too upset. Maybe he picked up on my change of mood with his enhanced senses and is keeping his physical distance. Oh, before I forget, I’m sorry for freaking out on you earlier. I was just…completely out of it. I knew that there was the possibility of him having feelings for someone else, but getting definite proof was…too much. I don’t think I can look him in the eyes without wanting to cry. I’m so pathetic.

  Not taking into account how that night ended for me, he took the whole situation better than I thought. Matt wasn’t mad at me (at himself at large) and he didn’t scold me much. It’s not like he was _happy_ about it, but it could have gone a lot worse. Nevertheless, I need to be extra careful now that I possess the information that every criminal wants. If somebody founds out that I know who Daredevil is, they’re going to come after me. It’s probably for the best that I keep my distance and stay away from him as much as I can. I don’t want to give him any more troubles that I already did.

  This is what I need, I guess, to take him out of my life and mind. Is the only way I can forget about him, or at least try to. Matt has become such an important part of my life in the last months that it seems nearly impossible to extract him from my heart. But it’s better this way, for him and for me. He doesn’t need me; all I am is trouble, and he has enough of them already. If I can force myself to get over him, then I’ll be fine. He’s better off without me anyway.

  And that’s the exact reason why I answer neither his text messages nor his phone calls. I can only imagine that he got my number from Foggy or Karen. If they know that he did, I’ve no idea. Matt has been trying to reach out to me for the past week. He’s either as stubborn as I am, or just doesn’t get that I’m not going to call him back. No matter how concerned he sounds in the texts and the voicemails, I’m not giving in. Besides, if he was really worried, he wouldn’t try to contact me via cell phone. F&K probably told him that I’m fine and that’s why he hasn’t come looking for me; unless, of course, that now _he’s_ stalking _me_. I really hope he's not.

  The upside of this entire thing is that I’m no longer constantly putting myself in the line of danger by following Daredevil every night. I got to spend more time with my mom and my grades aren’t going to shit anymore, if I can maintain this until graduation, it’ll be a bonus.

  Before I go any further with my story telling, I want to clear some things out. I’m well aware of everything that’s going on and the effects that it has on me. My way of handling this situation it’s not the wisest or the more mature one, I recognize that, but I’m doing what I can. After all, I’m only seventeen years old; I’m young and impulsive, and I take rash decisions. I complain a lot, and I swear a lot too; I’m a whiney little bitch and my thoughts are not the purest (although that can be attributed to the raging hormones of a teen). Most often than not I treat you badly and tell you to shut up. Hell, I even tried to blame you for something that it was entirely my fault. I’m sorry, I really am. Sometimes, it feels like I don’t have anyone but you; I think you are my only friend, honestly.

  I’ve got a lot of problems, I see that now. My mom is constantly beaten by my stepfather and I don’t do anything to help her out; my grades are on the floor, threatening with making me redo the entire school year; I get my ass kicked in order to defend the weak from the strong, in the form of nerds and bullies respectively; and on top of that, I fell madly in love with Daredevil. Most of this issues I’m handling them in the wrong way or I’m not even handling them at all. I’ve to start sorting them out quickly; otherwise, my life will go on a highway to hell. Look, you’re probably annoyed by my incessant rambling, but maybe there’s a possibility that you might be going through the same problems, like with school or your family. Maybe you’re even bullied too. I don’t know and it’s not my place to talk about something that I don’t know about, but if we are going through the same shit then we can understand each other a bit more. If this is the case, I really hope that you’re having it better than me. I wouldn’t wish any of this on anyone who doesn’t deserve it. We all have our problems; we just have to learn how to deal with them.

  So, now that we’re on better terms, let’s continue this adventure. It would be my honor that you decided to accompany me; sounds good? Great! As I was saying before, so far I haven’t seen Matt. I’ve no idea what he's up to, but there’s this odd feeling that tells me I’ll find out soon enough. It seems that no matter how hard I try, I can never remove Matt completely out of your life…Bummer. Well, I don’t think I’m doing a great job at it either since I’m standing behind the giant screen in front of his apartment while reading the last text that he sent me. It’s from an hour ago and says “come”. I supposed he referred to his house, from the absence of other details. Right now, despite my lack of knowledge on what might be going on in the dark apartment, I’m debating myself between going in or not. What do you think, should I do it?

  I could say that there’s nothing to lose, but that’s a lie. I’ve _everything_ to lose, especially my emotional sanity. Damn, I’m already regretting this. Why did I even come here? Guess I’m just _that_ stupid.

  I knock on the door that leads to the inside from the rooftop and I wait to hear a response. When none comes, I open the door slowly. I peer inside and catch a glimpse of a shadow entering the bedroom. Well, here goes nothing.

  Trying to descend the stairs without alarming Matt proves to be futile. As soon as I take the first step down, he pops his head from the bedroom. There’s definitely nothing creepy about it, just unnerving. God, it’s too late to go back the way I came in.

  “Mackenzie?” Matt asks tentatively with his eyes cast down to the floor near the beginning of the stairs. Don’t act like you didn’t already know it was me. I reluctantly walk down the rest of the steps and stop right in front of him. This better be worth my time Murdock, otherwise, I’ll kick your ass for the trouble. He comes into the leaving room, shirtless, and I see the myriad of cuts and bruises on his bare chest under the bright light delivered by the screen outside. Jesus fucking Christ. I’ve never seen him in worse shape. What even happened? Did he fell off a ten-story building into a dumpster filled with glass shards? Matt looks like he can barely stand on his feet. He’s going to collapse sooner or…

  Matt would’ve almost fell face first to the floor if I weren’t in front of him ready to catch him. He’s so freaking heavy! I can’t hold him for too long. The bed is too far away from us to push him back on top of it, and the couch is even farther than that. My best option is the couch, if I try to push him backward I won’t be able to support his weight and he’ll fall. I turn around and let him rest on my back; this won’t be good for my spine. Dragging my feet on the floor, I manage to take his unconscious body to the couch and lay it there. Well done, Kenzie: task successfully completed. I better get the kit now and start stitching his wounds. This might take the whole night.

 

* * *

 

  “Good morning sunshine.” Matt opens his eyes groggily, moving his head around slightly (as if he was searching for the direction from which my voice was coming, how cute-No!). He tries to get up but the pain that presumably shots up his back stops him. It’s not surprising, considering the high amount of wounds I had to stitch. Just to give you an idea, I filled a regular size plastic bag with tissues full of blood. At one point I’d to start using paper towels since there was nothing else. Is almost a miracle that none of the blood managed to stain the couch.

  “What time is it?” His voice sounds hoarse and strained, surely because of the pain. I searched for any kind of painkiller but there’s none. It must really be the Catholicism then…

  “Seven thirty. You can go back to sleep if you want; or stay awake and eat breakfast with me.” He seems disoriented and tired. I wonder if he even remembers what happened last night. Matt doesn’t ask any further questions, so I assume that he didn’t forget about the text he sent me. He tries again to get up but, unable to accomplish this task, decides against it and settles more upright on the couch. “That means breakfast then.” He turns his head to the left, clearly more aware of his surroundings this time, and spots me sitting on the opposite couch near the window.

  Matt nods once and I get up from my seat with a sigh. I know what is coming, and I’m not happy about it. Better get my hands busy with something to do. In advance of him waking up, I left prepared batter for pancakes and put coffee in the machine. It should be ready by now, so all I have to do is set the table and start frying. Of course, when I say table I actually mean the one in the living room between the couches, since Matt can’t get up. That’s not a problem, but I hope he can eat by himself. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t do it for him if it came down to that…but a really prefer _not_ to. No one can assure Matt that I won’t put his food in my mouth and try to feed him through kisses. He doesn’t need that, surely doesn’t want it, and I couldn’t stand any further self-humiliation. I'll rather die.

  “Why did you come?” His sudden question baffles me into silence. What does he mean? Doesn't he remember that he _asked_ me to come help him? He looks calmly serious, so he probably must remember. Why is he asking then? “You’d been ignoring me all week,” he says as a form of clarification. Matt looks positively discouraged, allowing me to understand how bad he felt during said period of time. Was he worried about me? Did he miss me? It’s impossible to remove him from my heart when things like this happen. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but then again he would be dead if I hadn’t.

  “Your text sounded serious enough. All your previous messages asked me if I was okay or told me that you wanted to talk. The last one just said ‘come’, which I considered out of character. It was short and direct, straight to the point. Something like that couldn’t profess anything good. If you weren’t in a bad situation and in need of my help, you wouldn’t have texted me that. So yeah, I considered it an emergency and decided to step in.” Matt relaxes visibly at my answer, most of the tension plaguing his body leaving it immediately. Still, his expression remains stoically blank. At least he’s not moping anymore. No, he’s curious, deathly so. “If you want to know, you just have to ask.”

  “Would you answer me if I do?” His tone is kind of sarcastic but laced with concern. Matt’s not entirely wrong, I don’t want to answer but I know I’ll have to eventually. Although not _all_ the truth needs to be revealed, the part about my feelings can be let out. With a good enough excuse as to why I fled his apartment last time that we spoke, he won’t even know that I’m lying through my teeth. I just need to make it so possible and real that it’ll sound convincing. If I believe my own lie, then there’s no way to find out that I’m being dishonest. It’s a good plan, except for the part where I need an excuse and I’ve none. Shoot.

  While turning the pancakes on the frying pan, I try to come with something to tell him; a reason for my absence. “In the moment before I left, you mentioned Claire. Since she’s a nurse, I remembered the time that I spent in the hospital and consequently the time that my  _mom_ spent there too. I started to panic at the fact that I was out all night and morning, leaving my mother completely alone with that psycho. Not wanting anything bad to happen to her, I ran as fast as I could back home. When I got there I found her like always, beaten and bloody.” This isn’t a lie; I did find her like that when I went home after that blissful night. Now that I finally know who Daredevil is (and promised Matt that I'll stop following him everywhere), I decided to stay more at home and save my mom a couple of beatings; since I would be staying away from Matt for my own reasons, I thought it would be best to take advantage of the situation and take care of my mother. The work I do for Foggy and Karen didn’t relent, I still need to do something else than being at school and home. Besides, it would’ve been complicated and awkward to tell them about what's going on (and I don’t want to lie to anyone else).

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Mackenzie.” He either bought the lie or is well aware of it to have some sensibility and not ask. I want it to be the first option, but knowing that entire heartbeat thing makes me feel like it’s more the second one. This is agonizingly stressful; I need a long vacation on a deserted island or something. The universe seems to feel otherwise because Matt is looking increasingly doubtful as time goes by. Maybe I should clarify a bit more.

  “I was too busy and preoccupied to answer your texts or calls, I’m sorry. Between school, home and street work I had my mind and hands filled to capacity. I thought about telling Karen and Foggy to tell you that I was okay, but it would’ve been suspicious. They don’t know anything of…this.” I motion with my hand to signal the entirety of the room, stating what I mean by saying “this”. They’re unaware of my stalking of Matt and Daredevil, and the fact that I know Matt’s secret. They also don’t know that I spent a night here in his apartment.

  Matt appears to be deep in thought for a moment, “staring” out the window with an unreadable expression. His head cranes slowly to the right and he trains his eyes on me, his face contorting with confusion. Brows knit together, mouth slightly agape and shoulders tense. This ain’t good. “Mackenzie…” Just as he says this, tentatively and with kind of an inquisitive tone of voice, I finish the pancakes and pour the coffee into a couple of mugs. Before Matt can continue with what I assume is a revelation he just had, I take everything to the coffee table and hand him the mug. Shut up and drink, Murdock, I don’t want to hear what you figured out. “Thank you,” he says quietly and takes a sip of the brown and bitter liquid after managing to sit up properly on the couch. I take my sit on the same couch as before and entertain my mouth with the same beverage. It’s hot as hell, but I’ll rather burn my tongue that answer to whatever he was going to say.

  I like to think that it all started that one night when I met Daredevil, but in truth, it began in the precinct. If Matt hadn’t turned around; if he hadn’t noticed me…I wouldn’t be here. Nothing would have ever happened and my life wouldn’t be _this_ fucked up. “Why you did it?” My voice is calm and quiet, too drained of energy. Did he recognize me at that time? I only met him once before, but he could’ve differentiated my heartbeat, eventually at least. Was that it?

  “What?” Matt sounds distant and confused, not understanding what I’m asking. He puts his mug on the coffee table and manages to shift slightly to his right side so he can face me a bit more. He’s reading me, as always, trying to figure out how I feel and why. Don’t do it, Murdock, nothing good would come out of that.

  “That day, at the police station, why did Foggy and you help me out?” His brow furrows as if my question was stupid and had an obvious answer. Maybe it does, but I want to hear it from him. Give me a reason to stop blaming myself, or one to do it harder. “Don’t say that it’s because you have a soft spot for kids or that it was the right thing to do, defend the innocent and all that shit. Give me the truth, Murdock. How did you even _know_ that I was innocent? I could’ve killed the piece of shit that is my stepfather for all you care.” At this point, I’m not sure if the venom dripping from my tone is directed at him or at my mother’s husband. Guess it’s the last one, I’m pissed at Matt, but no matter how much I want to, I can’t bring myself to hate him.

  “Your heartbeat,” he says simply with his eyes cast on the rug beneath his feet. “It wasn’t frantic like the one that victims of attacks possess, neither was completely steady like the one that criminals have. I could smell different types of blood on you, so you weren’t only hurt but managed to inflict damages as well. You were clearly in a fight, and angry about it. Your body was warm from the rage you felt. Since a couple of officers were dragging you, it seemed that you were guilty of something, otherwise, you wouldn’t be handcuffed. As they passed by with you between them, I turned so I could stay focused on you and the possible cause that brought you here. When I did, you looked at me too, your heartbeats spiking at that. At that moment I knew that I’d met you before, somewhere, so I told Foggy about taking the case and he said ‘why not?’” Once he finishes his tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his dry lips. That doesn’t _actually_ answer my question, but having the knowledge of what made him interested in me is enough.

  “So you _did_ recognize me after all. I knew it.” The last part is only murmured, despite the fact that he can still hear it. I shake my head in disbelief, not processing the fact that he saved me _thrice_.

  “I did. That’s how I knew that you were following me, and working with Foggy and Karen.” How did he found out the last part? I wasn’t around when he was, always meeting them when Matt was absent. Probably was something else that gave away my presence, like a perfume or something. Can he distinguish me from everybody by smelling my natural scent? What those it even smell like? I could ask him, but I really don’t want to. That would be way too personal, to know what Matt _thinks_ about my body’s natural smell. It could be utterly disappointing or the other way around. Either seems awful for me and my heart.

  “Right,” is the only response I can manage to get out, sounding truly exasperated. His eyebrows knit in confusion, trying to put a finger on what I’m thinking. You read body language, not minds. “I should get going. We both have things to do and I don’t want to bother you more than necessary.” Getting up, I stretch a little and watch his face contort with something akin to annoyance. Matt starts to open his mouth as if to say something, but quickly shuts it. Well then.

  “You’ve never bothered me, Mackenzie. I enjoy your company more than you think.” He says this with such seriousness and conviction that for a moment I believe it’s true. Second passes and I regain my composure, not wanting to show how much his comment affects me. I’ve to be strong and pull myself out of the water before I drown. He’ll be the end of me if I let him. “I hope that you already know this, but if you need _anything_ , either help or just someone to talk with, I’m here.” Fuck. _No_.

  “Thanks, Matt, but I don’t think that that’s really necessary.” I need to practice more my acting skills, they’re terrible. My voice wavers, threatening to crack. How stupid and pathetic I am. He notices, his face twisting with worry. I need to get out. If I don’t do it now, I never might be able to. “I’ll see you around,” I say before he can protest any further. It’s a lie, we both know it. I’ll do my damn hardest to stay away from him, and he’ll do the same but to keep in contact with me.

 

* * *

 

  Can you believe it’s my birthday? Today’s my goddamn birthday and I don’t even give a flying fuck. I don’t have any friends; my stepfather is an asshole that hates me; my mom is too busy tending to her newer wounds (not that I’m complaining); Karen and Foggy are off researching on their latest case; and Matt…well, nowadays our “relationship” it’s complicated (and I don’t mean like those stupid and hysteric couples on Facebook that change their relationship status every two or three days). We’re _not_ a couple, anyway. If by any chance today is your birthday too, then I wish you a happy one (and I hope it’s happier than mine).

  So, today it’s practically an enforced “me” day since I’m spending it completely alone; or at least so far. Being poor doesn’t help much either, I can’t buy myself anything fancy, not even tasty food to treat myself. Every teenager has this stupid fantasy in which you believe that once you are eighteen you can do whatever you want. Well, guess what? I can’t do as much shit as I couldn’t do before. Still broke as fuck and without anyone who cares enough. Maybe I should get a job, you know, one that actually pays. No matter how much I like working for Foggy and Karen, they don’t pay me and I could really use some money.

  Speaking about the happy still-not-a-couple-yet, as I was walking through the Kitchen, I just realize that I unconsciously ended up in front of their office. The now too familiar sing reading “Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at law” staring back at me. What drew me here in the first place, anyway?

  Not having anywhere else to go, I decide to go up the stairs and stay in the office for a while, waiting in the hopes that someone shows up. At this miserable point in my life, I don’t even care if it’s Matt who comes through the door. My heart skips a beat when I hear someone coming up the steps and into the narrow hallway. Two shadowy figures stand in front of the office’s door, putting a key in the hole and unlocking it. The wood creaks, revealing Karen and Foggy on the other side looking up at me in what appears to be a surprised delight. How wonderful. I let go of the breath I was holding in, not even realizing I was doing it, and slump further in the chair I’m currently sitting in, right across the front door.

  “Hey, Kenzie, what are you doing here?” Foggy asks with a cheerful tone. Good, they’re not mad at least. Both of them hang their coats and Karen enters the little kitchen to start making coffee. She sucks at it, but I don‘t want to point it out and hurt her feelings, she’s way too nice to be a dick at. Foggy goes to his office and sets his satchel on his desk, taking some papers out of it and starting to arrange them neatly in different stacks.

  “Just went out for a walk and ended up here unconsciously, sorry,” I answer apologetically. Even on the anniversary of my birth, I don’t want to bother anyone with my unwanted presence. Shit, this sucks. Karen looks at me with worry in her eyes and hands me a cup of coffee. Not even a horrible tasting hot beverage can make things worse. Fuck, I did it again, didn’t I?

  “Are you okay? You don’t seem like it.” Although I appreciate Karen’s concern, I rather not talk about everything that’s going down the toilet in my life right now, especially not about the problem regarding Murdock and my feelings for him (and the lack of feeling _from_ him). If I do, he’ll find out one way or another. With all that enhanced senses crap and…

  “I’m fine, I just…it’s not a good day for me.” Taking into account the fact that it’s my birthday and the only person that knows and cares is trying to sleep away a concussion provided earlier by the bastard she’s married to. Karen sits on her desk chair, right in front of me, and stretches her arm so she can grab my hand and squeeze it. It’s a bit reassuring, but not enough to change the course of the day. By now, I believe that the only thing that can make me happy is Matt telling me that he loves me. Yeah, right, like that’s _ever_ going to happen. Keep dreaming Mackenzie; maybe someday you just won’t wake up anymore.

  “Is there anything that we can do to improve your mood and make you feel a little better,” asks Karen gently, caressing my hand softly. Almost just like Matt does. Foggy comes out of his office and stands against the wall on the side of the desk; his look of worry matches Karen’s. They’re two of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, but right now…I just wish I’ve never been born.

  Shaking my head ‘no’, I pray for this conversation to be over. My best option is going home. Probably not, though, unless I want to get yelled at even more. “Maybe if we call Matt and go for a coffee or something,” Foggy intervenes, trying for a more joyful strategy. I’m not feeling like seeing Matt right now. He’ll just pick up on my sour mood even if I try to hide it, and push me until I tell him what the problem is.

  “You really hate my coffee making skills that much, don’t you?” Karen asks Foggy accusingly in a disbelieving tone of voice. If her face of hurt astonishment is anything to go by…I think Mr. Nelson is pretty much screwed. Foggy starts babbling something incoherent, trying and failing to defend himself while moving his hands around as if expecting us to understand him via signaling. This gets me giggling a little, amused by the complete silliness and absurdity of it all. I’m on the brink of tears and I don’t know if they’re of sadness or happiness.

  Foggy tries to distract Karen’s indignation by fishing out his cell phone and proceeding to call Matt, but before he even gets down half his number I stop him, reaching up to grab his wrist. He looks down at me, surprised and confused at the same time, unable to understand why I stopped him so suddenly. Unwittingly, my cheeks flush fifty shades of red and I freeze mid stand. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

  Karen and Foggy exchange a knowing glance and they star to laugh at my expense. What the duck? “What’s wrong Kenzie, too flustered to see Matt today?” Foggy asks teasingly. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Shit! They _KNOW_! How could I even think that they would be oblivious to my feelings for Matt? So freaking stupid! If they knew for…who knows how long, it means that Matt can be aware too.

  “W-what are you even t-talking about?” Stop stuttering, Mackenzie, Christ, get a hold of yourself. Foggy smiles like he won a Nobel price or something, feeling triumphant and content.

  “Oh, don’t act like you’ve no idea what I’m talking about. I knew since the first day that we met.” Picturing the day I got arrested, I remember my intensive inspection of Matt. At that time I didn’t care, thinking that the probability of never seeing them again was pretty high. Now, looking back on it, I shouldn’t have been so obvious about it. Damn me and my lack of self-control.

  “Was it really so evident all this time? I thought no one managed to notice.” I cringe at my own words, finding myself stupid in the light of this revelation. They look at me with what I recognize as pity at first, but then I analyze it a little better and see that is just warm sympathy; the kind that you receive from people who care deeply about you. I never thought that I would feel blessed to have a couple of lawyers and their secretary as friends, legal problems aside. “You didn’t tell Matt, right?” They would never do that, I think, but I got to be sure.

  “Tell him what? That you moon over him every time that he’s around?” He makes it sound so corny and cliché, it’s annoying. I don’t  _moon_ over Matt, okay? Maybe just a little bit. Ok, shut up.

  I suppose my only option right now is to admit it and suck it up, otherwise, they won’t let this go and they will hold it until the end of time. And if that last case scenario ends up happening, Matt will sooner or later find out. “Fine, you’re right. I’ve certain ‘feelings’ for Matt, but it doesn’t mean that I’m crazy about him, okay? Don’t exaggerate.” I curse myself when I fail at sounding serious and upset. I need to put my shit together before Matt so happens to burst through the goddamn door.

  “Come on, you fat liar! You’re so in love with him that it makes me think that we’re in a freaking rom-com. It’s sweetly disgusting.” He did not just say that. More so, he did not just _scream_ that. Is he insane? If Matt was even two blocks away from the office he could’ve heard…

  “Jesus, Foggy, don’t scream that! I think that the whole neighbor heard you. Chill out, I don’t want him to find out…” Before I can continue with my ranting, the door opens quietly with the softest of squeaks. The first thing I see when I crane my neck in the direction of the intruding sound is a white cane. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, NO! The next thing (or person, more accurately) is Matt, who swiftly walks in and puts his cane down in a corner before he takes off his coat. Motherfucking Jesus Christ. Holy duck, I’m fucked.

  “You don’t want who to find out about what?” Oh _God_ , he’s acting as if he doesn’t know at all. I guess it was expected, especially since Karen doesn’t know shit about his secret. I stare at Foggy, completely shocked and out of words. He looks back at me with the same kind of expression, aware of Matt hearing extensions.

  Matt gazes blankly at the three of us, expecting someone (mostly me) to answer him anytime soon. Karen looks away and starts busying herself with her paperwork. Foggy excuses himself by saying that he has a shit-ton of documents to which go through, he cracks a terrible joke and disappears into his small office. I’m left alone in the spotlight, having Matt’s full attention all to myself. He tilts his head, his patience wearing off as time goes by. Scheisse.

  “It’s nothing.” My heart beats so fast I’m starting to believe that it’ll pop out of my chest. Matt’s jaw twitches in the way that’s overly familiar to me and swallows down the retort that’s dying to come out. ‘I know that you’re lying’, he wants to say. I feel like one of the criminals that Daredevil fights must feel when they’re confronted with the same question, knowing that not saying the truth would only gain them more pain.

  Matt’s mouth opens to say something but Karen (thankfully) beats him to it. “Hey, Mackenzie, isn’t today your birthday?” Naively, I thought that whatever Karen had to say would save me from what I _know_ Matt was about to lecture me with (even with Karen right in front of him). Truth be told, I was fucking _wrong_. My entire face contracts painfully like if I’d a black hole in the middle of it, trying to suck me off into oblivion. I wish I was that lucky. Matt’s eyebrows shoot up and his mouth half opens, clearly taken aback by Karen’s sudden inquiry. Foggy, who surely was eavesdropping, comes out of the office beaming like an excited puppy. Great, now the two things that I didn’t want them to know are out in the open. Why doesn’t a piano just fall on top of me, giving me a mercifully crushing death?

  I want to lie and say _no_ , but Matt will pick it up and say otherwise, excusing himself somehow. “Yes,” I say reluctantly, hating how my voice sounds so resigned. Foggy hugs me from behind, shaking me wildly and congratulating me. Karen gets up and comes to hug me too, waiting until Foggy releases me from his bear-like embrace. I look over at Matt and watch with relief that he smiles faintly. Well, got my ass saved by this depressing date.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Karen asks half upset and half-happy. She holds me at arm’s length and stares at me as if I’m some kind of alien from Mars.

  “It has never been a celebratory day for me really.” Matt presses his lips in a thin line at this, balling his fist at his sides. Karen makes an “oh” noise and puts both of her hands over her chest. Foggy half-smiles apologetically and rests his right palm over my left shoulder. Again, is not pity, is sympathy. “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’m used to it. Actually, is the first time that I spend my birthday with someone else than my mother.” Before I can react to it, I’m being crushed in a bear hug by the three of them. Unfortunately, I got K&F covering my front and back, preventing me (by accident, I think) from full contact with Matthew. Damn it, it’s not fair!

  Once we separate, Foggy perks up with a ‘brilliant’ idea (in his opinion, not mine). “We’ll celebrate among us then! Let’s get out of here and go somewhere else, maybe get something to eat or whatever. What do you say K?” It didn’t work with Karen and it’s definitely not going to work with me. If anything I should be ‘M’, not ‘K’ (I know that it comes from ‘Kenzie’, but still). Even though I appreciate Foggy’s enthusiasm, I don’t feel like going out today. I’ll just rather stay here or inside somewhere that’s not crowded with people. He seems to pick up on my sour mood and quickly changes his offer. “Or maybe we could just order some take out and stay here? We don’t need to go into the wild of the Kitchen if you don’t want to.”

  “Yeah, I mean, it sounds fun enough to me,” says Karen agreeing. These guys…They do too much for me, and in exchange, I give them so little. I don’t deserve their kindness. Somehow, Matt becomes aware of my discomfort with the whole situation and offers yet another alternative.

  “We could go to my apartment and order some Tai food from the place around the corner. We’ll be more comfortable and free from the risk of attracting more rats into the office.” His tone is flat and even, not giving away any emotion, but still delivering a joke with a sly smirk. We laugh a little, minding the thought of rats running around, which is quite disgusting. Shit, I don’t know. Matt’s house…even if Foggy and Karen are there it could be awkward. Fuck it; I don’t want to make this weirder than it already is.

  “Very well, let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

  The sound of hysterical laughs and wet gasps for air fill the room with warm content. Gosh, I haven’t laughed like this in such a long time. Not since my father…

  “Oh God, I can’t breathe,” Karen struggles to get the words past her lips. None of us can, to be honest. We’re all equally choking while trying to get some air down our throats. It’s nice, painfully so. We ended up eating in Matt’s living room, with K&F perched on the individual couches in front of the larger one. The remaining contents of the Tai food sit in their respective boxes on the coffee table. I ate until I almost exploded. The food was delicious, or maybe the company I currently have made it that way. Who knows?

  “My sides hurt so badly,” Foggy manages to say before bursting into another set of breathless giggles. Oh man, we’re so silly. Slowly, we start to calm down one by one. There was a moment in the middle of all the fuss when I thought that I would throw up from the laughter attack that I was suffering. If it wasn’t for Matt, who helped me to breathe normally again, the carpet would be full of half-digested Tai food. Just thinking about it makes want to puke.

  “Shit, is so late already, how much time did we spend laughing?” Karen says with a breathy laugh, picking up her phone. From her shocked expression and the dark sky looming outside, I gather that it’s pretty fucking late. “I should get going, or else I won’t sleep enough to be functioning in the morning.”

  “You’re right,” Foggy agrees, getting up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. Before he can say more, a tired yawn interrupts him. “We’ve to get up early tomorrow if we want to get to the courthouse in time.” Oh, yeah, they have a trial tomorrow morning for their latest client. I hope they win.

  “We can get a cab together, my place is halfway yours,” Foggy tells Karen. She nods and starts to grab her coat and purse. Foggy does the same with his jacket and satchel, walking slowly to the front door. He stops and turns in my direction. “What about you, Kenzie? We can drop you out at your house if you want to,” he offers me politely. Right, I need to go to. I can’t stay for _obvious_ reasons involving my feelings for Matt and all of that, and neither can I keep him from getting a good night of rest for tomorrow. He’ll need the energy.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll see that she gets home safe,” Matt interjects, confusion marrying both of K&F faces. What is he…? “There are a few things I would like to speak with her alone,” he clarifies. The two individuals currently leaving make an ‘oh’ face and exchange a knowing look. _Fuck_.

  “Sure, no problem, we’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a good night.” Says Foggy nervously, trying to get out as soon as possible. “We really had a great time, and I hope that you had it too, Mackenzie. Happy birthday again,” adds Karen before she goes through the door and out of sight, followed closely by Foggy. They were my only escape from the uncomfortable talk that I was dreading to have with Matt. Well shit. As I hear the sound of the door closing (sounding way too final) I turn around and face Matt, who’s standing beside the couch. I try and fail to swallow the lump in my throat. What am I even going to say? Now he _knows_ and I feel like everything will fall apart if any of us dares to utter a single word.

  “Why don’t you sit so we can chat a little?” His voice is soft in contrast to the building tension taking over his body. Matt’s face remains impossibly blank and unreadable, not giving away what he might be thinking or feeling. I nod absentmindedly and mechanically maneuver my body towards the couch. Once I’m sitting, stiffly and awkwardly, Matt sits right next to me and takes off his glasses. Good, maybe I’ll be able to decipher him more easily without them. Hm, probably not, though.

  “So…what do you want to talk about?” I ask uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze at all costs. He shifts closely, forcing me to move on the couch until I’m cornered against the left armrest. Shitshitshitshit. Matt’s eyes are glued to my face, making me feel like I’m some kind of germ under a microscope. His left arm drapes over the backrest and his body is only a few inches away from mine. All that he has to do is put his right hand on the armrest and he’ll have me completely trapped. There’s _no escape_.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your birthday?” Oh, thank God. For a second I thought he would bring up what transpired earlier today in the office. Wait, no, he can still ask that later.

  “I don’t know; I’ve just been so busy…” Is a lie, a _huge_ lie, but maybe he won’t notice it. His lip twitches as a warning of his anger rising. Fuck, he noticed. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t trying to avoid anything. Well, actually, I was. Even when it’s literally about me, I don’t want it to be. Karen, Foggy and you are way too busy to waste time with me, although you ended up doing it anyway. I expect that you guys didn’t have anything else to do, otherwise I’ll feel worse than I already do, seriously.” My incoherent babbling doesn’t seem to confuse him any more than the words themselves do. “Speaking about that, I should go, you need to sleep because tomorrow-”

  “We’re not done talking.” Matt’s tone is that serious and deadly one that elicits two opposite reactions in me: one, it incredibly turns me on; two, it scares the crap out of me. Yeah, it’s maddening. I settle a bit more comfortably in my narrow spot on the couch and divert my eyes from his face, placing them securely on the floor. Muttering a quiet ‘okay’, Matt resumes his speech. “If you’d told me beforehand I would’ve brought you a gift or something,” he says and the ghost of a smile passes through his face.

  “Oh, Matt, don’t. Please, it would only make me feel bad and-” Something briefly crosses Matt’s face, an expression I cannot quite place. What? His brows knit together and his lips morph into a straight line. It’s completely different from what I saw before, that weird thing his face did at the beginning of my sentence…Was that a reaction to my ‘oh, Matt’? Oh, my-

  “Why not? I don’t want to sound bluntly mean, but I believe that there aren’t a lot of people who give you gifts on your birthday. Sorry, that was awful,” he says apologetically, sounding a bit pissed at himself. No offense taken, that’s true.

  “Is just…forget about it, doesn’t matter. Look I really need to go now and you should get some sleep-” He clicks his tongue, efficiently shutting me up (like if I was a dog or something; what the hell?). He’s not letting me go, isn’t he? _Fuuuck_. Matt leans in and for a brief instant I think that he’s about to kiss me, but he stops shortly from my face. I can _feel_ his hot breath barely gracing my clavicles.

  “There’s something else I want to _discuss_ with you.” His low and stone cold tone paralyzes me on the spot. I don’t dare to move, way too fucking scared to do so. Wishing my body could shrink until it disappears, I try to prepare myself for what is coming. “I’ve been aware for a while about your…feelings.” This is it, this is the end. This is when I die. Goodbye cruel world, it’s over, walk on by. My eyes shut on their own accord, not wanting to see his reaction to that statement. I wish the floor opened and something came out to drag me down to Hell. That would be _way_ better than this. Nothing in the world could’ve prepared me for Matt’s confrontation. I need a drink. I never drink alcohol, never needing it or liking it, but right now I want to be _hammered_.

  “Matt, whatever you’re talking about, I’ve no idea-” I try to divert the conversation whit a stupid lie. It’s very ineffective.

  “Cut the crap, Mackenzie, you’re in love with me.” Wow, hey, what? Shit. That’s…way too straightforward for me. I mean, he’s right, but still. Who says something like that in _that_ way? So fucking rude, Murdock. Wait, am I crying? When did I…? “Oh I-I’m sorry, Mackenzie, I didn’t mean to be so direct. It’s just that, you know how much it pisses me off when someone lies to me. Please, don’t do it. And I’m not scolding you for your feelings, just for the lying. Let’s talk this out, okay?” His hands find mine, squeezing them reassuringly. Matt’s smile is small and warm, promising the impossible. He _is_ going to scold me for my feelings one way or another, I know it already. I’m not stupid.

  “What’s there to talk about?” I ask begrudgingly, not wanting to meet his eyes. Seriously, there’s nothing to ‘talk about’. It’s simple; I’m in love with him and he knows it. End of the discussion.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? All this time…I figured out by measuring and analyzing your reactions every time that you were near me, even with the fact that you tried to hide it. It didn’t work, by the way.” Well, who would’ve thought about that?! Thanks, Capitan Obvious, I wasn’t aware of my royal fail. Never in my entire life could I’ve guessed that he knew about my feelings before Foggy shouted it to the whole neighbor. If the look I give him, full of pissed disbelief, goes unnoticed, I swear I’m going to scream and rip my hair out.

  “What did you expected me to say? ‘Hey Matt, how’s it going? So, I wanted to tell you that I love you, no big deal. Alright, see you later’.” Doing the best impersonation of myself that I can manage, I try my hardest to make him see reason.

  “Well, not like that, but you could’ve told me before I sensed it _and_ heard Foggy almost scream it.” I cringe when he mentions the last part. There’s no need to constantly remind me of that, it’s embarrassing. He places one of his hands on my knee and I feel like I was just showered with freezing water. What is he _doing_?

  “Ballet shoes,” I mumble absentmindedly, searching for whatever that might divert this agonizing conversation. Matt says something but I can’t hear him; I don’t want to either. I suppose that he asked me about my apparently nonsensical outburst. “That was the most precious gift I've ever been given. It was from my mom; when I was six.” With the clarification, Matt sits back and listens intently. “I always loved ballet. I don’t know why; I just did. In 2003, a world-recognized ballet dancer came to my neighbor to give free ballet classes to the girls and boys who wanted to learn but didn’t have the resources to pay for classes in a ballet school. I asked her for weeks to let me go, and I thought that I would never convince her. On my sixth birthday, she gave me a pair of small and pink ballet shoes and told me I could go to the classes. It was one of the best moments in my life.” I start to tear up, unable to keep my emotions under control. The arm Matt kept at the backrest moves slowly until his left hand touches the nape of my neck with a delicacy you wouldn’t believe that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen could possess. It makes me go totally rigid for a second, but soon enough I relax into it. I’ve to stop him. “Sometimes, I wish I had a pair, so I could dance again. The last time that I did was long ago, but I still remember most of the movements and steps. I would be so happy if I did…” At the end, my voice cracks. There’s no use in trying to contain the tears any longer.

  “Mackenzie…?” His voice sounds so distant; like he’s far away from me. I wish he were; his presence only manages to make this more painful than it should be. Fucking hell, get a grip of yourself, Mackenzie!

  “I can’t be around you anymore, Matt; it’s too painful for me. This has to stop, all of this, I need to pull myself together and I can’t do it with you in my mind. I love you, but it is a problem because you don’t love me back and to want something you can have, it just…drives you crazy. And I can’t, I can’t do this. Please.” I beg with tears streaming down my cheeks, voice rogue from all the raw emotion that I’m finally letting out. Confessing him my love feels like taking off a backpack full of weights after running a marathon. I look at him and he seems lost for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. Just let me go, Murdock! Let me go.

  “I understand that you need to distance yourself from me, and I won’t prevent you from doing that. I just don’t want to let you go home like this, feeling so sad. Let me give you a little something first before you go, and if you still want to leave after you receive it that’s fine with me.” I don’t move or say anything, staring suspiciously at him. What is he planning? This better be good or else I’ll punch him in the face (chill, I won’t. He’s way too pretty.) “Okay, good,” he says after taking my silence as an affirmative answer. “I need you to trust me and close your eyes. Can you do that for me?” He asks with a gentle tone, not wanting to upset me in any way. I nod once and shut my eyelids. “May I?” His question indicates that he’s asking me permission to move. I assume that he wants to get up to get whatever the ‘gift’ is. Nodding once more, I feel the couch shift beneath me when he starts to move.

  Instead of Matt’s weight leaving my side, I sense that he’s getting closer and closer to me. What the hell is he-?

  Everything around me stops at the same time that I become oversensitive to all of it. The cars rushing through the streets of the Kitchen; the blinding light provided by the gigantic screen; the sensation of Matt’s warm fingers pulling me by the neck; Matt’s soft and plump lips caressing mine deftly, with a passion that is there but at the same time appears not to be. My body stills, every muscle tensing in distress. Why? Why _this_? Something wet and slimy bumps against my teeth and for a second I panic until the realization hits me: it’s Matt’s _tongue_. What is he doing? Is he asking me for access? I open my mouth tentatively and he slips his tongue inside. If I were watching this as an outside person, or if someone told me how this is like, I would find it disgusting (yes, this is my _first_ kiss, don’t make a fuss about it). But somehow it’s just…magical, you know? Matt’s so delicate and sweet with every move he makes. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud or something (not like I’m tripping on acid, though).

  Matt’s face angles in the right way, so he’s able to deepen the kiss. The exploration of my oral cavity with his tongue becomes more intensive as the minutes tick by. After a moment of doubt, I push my tongue forward to start a tickling dance with his. This is so surreal. I feel like I can’t breathe. In an attempt to gather some air into my lungs, I try to inhale some oxygen through my nose, but my brain is so immersed in the kiss alone that I end up breathing through my mouth. Of course, this means that what’s supposed to be a quiet intake of air results in some kind of needy moan. What the entire fuck, Mackenzie? Matt stops completely and pulls away. I feel tempted to lean in and start kissing him again, but I know better than to push my luck.

  “Do you want to leave now?” He asks between pants. Oh my, he’s so freaking sexy. Like hell I would want to leave. I mean, hello, you really asking that, Murdock? “If you do, I’ll understand; if otherwise, we should move to the bed.” Is he for real? This was supposed to go to hell, all of this, and now…Did Matt just kissed me and is now telling me to sleep with him, like, on the same bed? I must be dreaming, is the only reasonable explanation.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I say automatically, without thinking. He grabs my hand and stands up, leading me to his bedroom. Right now I don’t even care if this doesn’t end in sexy time; I just want to cuddle with him forever.

 

* * *

 

  “How long it has been since you last danced?” Matt asks above the sound of frying pancakes. Last night was wonderful. He held me close to him until I fell asleep, speaking to me quietly all the time. There wasn’t a repetition of that _wonderful_ kiss, but it doesn’t matter. I get that he feels conflicted about his feelings; after all, he’s ten years older than me. Right after we settled on the bed he kind of panicked and asked me how old I am. The sigh of relief that left him hurt a little, but it was understandable.

  “I stopped when my dad died,” is my muted reply. For some reason, unknown to me, Matt’s really interested in the whole ballet deal (or at least as much as it concerns me). He talked about it last night too.

  “If you could do it again, would you dance for me? I’ll like to see you do it.” Wow, where did that came from? _Now_ I get why he was so adamant with knowing more about my brief dance “career”. He wants me to _dance_ for him? How will that work? I mean (and pardon me if it sounds too obvious or offensive), he’s blind. How exactly is he going to “see” me dance? He has his enhanced senses, but can he really see that much?

  “How? No offense.” It sounds even worse when I say it out loud. Thankfully, I stop there and don’t include everything else that I was thinking.

  “None taken. And you know, I can ‘see’ movement after all, so I’ll be able to watch you. Don’t’ worry about it.” His reassuring smile is as charming as him. Can you believe those same lips, which are pulling a smile like _that_ off, kissed me? I can’t.

  “ _If_ I could, I would, only for you.” It’s true, if I had a pair of shoes I would only dance for him, not even for myself. It’s not beautiful anymore. Not without my dad. The entire reason why I practiced so hard was to perform perfectly on the show we were preparing for New Year’s Eve. He never made it to the show, I never danced in it. He was killed that same night. Since then, I swore I wouldn’t dance again.

  Yes, I’m breaking my promise by telling Matt that I would do it, but you can’t say no to him when he’s grinning at you in a way that makes your panties drop. It won’t happen, anyway, so it’s okay to say yes.

  “Mackenzie, about last night,” he says out of nowhere. Matt leaves the tacit question hanging in the air. I know what he means and I know that he was going to say something like ‘we can’t tell anyone’ or ‘we should think this through’. I don’t want to hear any of that. All I want him to vocalize is: ‘that was amazing’; ‘I love you’; or ‘let’s do it again’. Nothing more, nothing less. “I want to take things slowly. Even if you are eighteen now, you’re still ten years younger than me. Foggy and Karen won’t have a problem with us being together, but they’re not the ones I’m concerned about. So…can we take one step at a time? What do you say?”

  “I say that it’s fine, as long as you keep your promise.” Matt furrows his brow and looks in my general direction with a face full of confusion. He didn’t forget already, did he? “ _Don’t_ push me away.” His puzzled expression morphs into one of understanding, showing a wide smile playing in his face.

  “I swear I won’t,” he says while handing me a plate full of pancakes bathed in maple syrup and decorated with blueberries. Simply perfect.

  “I’ll hold you to that, Murdock.” My reply is obstructed by the big amount of mushy pancakes filling my mouth. I’m so fucking hungry, but I don’t think it’s for food. Matt sits next to me and starts digging into his own plate, all suits and red tinted sunglasses. I think I never loved someone _this much_. It’s weird, enticingly so.

 

* * *

 

  The last couple of days has been wonderful. I haven’t seen Matt yet, but the memory of the kiss we shared and everything that happened afterward was enough to appease me. He’s still busy with Daredevil patrols and the latest case he’s working on alongside Foggy. The only real interaction that I’d during this time was with Karen, who asked me about all the details of that miraculous night. I still can’t believe it, can you? Yeah, it’s a dream come true.

  He told me about _his_ feelings. You know, he was aware of mine for some time now, but I hadn’t the slightest idea that he felt the same. Damn, wouldn’t even have bet on it. Matt said that he’s not sure when they started to develop; that suddenly, one day, he figured out that he had them. Kind of like what I went through. What hurt me a little is that he confessed that he didn’t want to fall in love with me at first, but at the end, he couldn’t help it.

  I mean-Oh, wait, I just got a text. It’s from Matt! It says ‘Meet me after work’. How weird and unexpected, but cool. Although he doesn’t say _where;_  I can assume he’s referring to his apartment. Okay then; we finish at five in the afternoon (he’s working at the office and I’m currently on my daily patrol, looking for information). Now that Matt acknowledged my involvement with Foggy, I officially work for both of them. He still doesn’t like it, but we agreed in disagreeing.

  Right now it’s four and a half o’clock. So I’ve half an hour until meeting Matt. Good, it’s plenty of time. I’ll just wrap up my work here and then I’ll head out to his place.

  This alleyway should provide an efficient shortcut to Matt’s block…“Give me all your money!”

  I turn around at the sudden and loud demand and find a presumably homeless man wielding a switchblade. This guy…he doesn’t know what he’s in for. Ha! Mugging me of all people? It’s almost as bad as trying to rob Daredevil. What’s wrong with people these days, anyway?

  “Keep walking man, find someone else to bug.” I’m confident that my tone sounded disinterested enough for the man to back off immediately. Either I was wrong or he’s way too dumb to follow simple instructions. The man snarls defiantly and steps forward, the knife clutched tightly by his left side. Oh well, here it goes again.

  He lunges in my direction and I dodge him easily, he’s way too drunk to be doing this. As he passes next to me, I trip him with one of my feet. He falls, face-first, in the most unceremonious way possible. What an idiot. The dude manages to get up, sporting a nasty cut on top of his right eyebrow. He swings the switchblade in my direction, failing to cut me every time. This is so easy that it’s borderline boring.

  I duck to avoid a swing aimed at my face and, in an advantage of our disposition, punch him in the gut, effectively blowing off the air in his lungs. Before I can completely retract my arm into safety again, the blade slashes a cut through my right palm. I hiss at the pain that the wound elicits, but I don’t get distracted for too long. Hooking a leg behind one of his, and pushing him backward with a hand flat on his chest, I make him fall on his ass. While his four limbs flail around, the guy trying to regain his bearings, I punch him right in the middle of the face. His nose breaks with a satisfactory crack and starts spilling blood all over the fucker’s face and t-shirt front. He gasps one last time, cries out in pain, and blacks out completely on the dirty ground of the alley. That’s what you get for messing with me, bitch!

  Looking at my hand makes me consider for a brief moment if it’s worth the trouble of patching it immediately, but a shake the thought away once that I look at my phone. I’ve ten minutes left, so I’ll take care of it in Matt’s apartment. Before I go, I’ll take with me the douche’s switchblade. He doesn’t deserve it (since he can’t even use it fucking properly), and it’ll come in handy for any future events such as this one.

  Walking through the rest of the alley, a stray cat comes out from under a dumpster to greet me. I crouch down to pet him a little; he looks clean enough to do so, after all. What kind of animals does Matt like? Is he a cat person or a dog person? Maybe he doesn’t like animals at all.

  I arrive at Matt’s building entrance with three minutes left, which is the amount necessary for me to go up the stairs to his door. What a great timing indeed.

  By the time that I reach his door and I’m about to knock on it, he swings it open and steps aside so I can enter. Matt greets me kindly, telling me to sit on the couch while he gets me something to drink. Such a gentleman he is. I wonder why he asked me to come.

  After rummaging in the kitchen for a minute or two, he settles two glasses of tap water on top of the coffee table and sits down next to me at my left side. “How was your day?” He asks politely and with a charming smile plastered on his face. It’s an honest one; like he’s really happy about something. Could that be the fact that I’m here, or maybe is in relation with whatever reason he had to ask me to meet him? We shall discover it soon enough.

  “Good, very good; it has been a smooth afternoon. What about you?” I leave out the part of the hobo attack, he doesn’t need to worry. I would hate to ruin his happiness right now. Later, once I know why I’m here, I’ll ask him if I can borrow his first aid kit. For now, I want to concentrate on him alone.

  Matt’s lips twitch in distaste and annoyance, the rest of his face remains impassive. He knows that I’m not telling him something. “My day was fine. We managed to come up with a good defense for our client and I got something for you.” He’s beaming like a toddler who is about to show his latest drawing to his parents. Can someone literally die from a cuteness overload?

  “Hey, that’s great! I mean the case thing. But anyway, what you got for me?” I’m half excited and half embarrassed; I like gifts, but they make me feel guilty and like I own something to the person that gives me the present. Matt’s smile turns into a smirk, the sly one that says “I know something you don’t”. He sits back and spreads his arms over the backrest of the couch. So this is Matt “Smug” Murdock…interestingly hot.

  “First, you’ll have to tell me what happened to your right hand. And _after_ you bandage it, I’ll give you your birthday present.” Matt’s clearly trying to hide his rage (towards whoever did this to me) with cockiness, but now that I know him so well I’m able to read him better. He’s awful at trying to hide his anger. The jaw twitch always gives him away. An attempt to distract him could result in him getting more pissed at me than at the culprit, but because I’m stupid I still have to try.

  “You got me a birthday present? Matt! You shouldn’t have; I mean, the kiss was more than enough-” His face darkens considerably, like a hailstorm about to unleash frozen Hell on Earth. I shut up immediately and give up on my change of subject. “It’s nothing, really, just a drunken asshole who tried to mug me. I’m fine, this is just a little scratch that I got by pure unluckiness. In retaliation I left him knocked out cold and with a broken nose, he had it coming for messing with me, the little bitch…” I stop before I get more upset at the whole affair, it’s not worth it.

  Rage and contempt flash through Matt’s face for a second before he composes himself. He puts on his expressionless mask again and carefully takes my right hand in his. Such a sweetheart he is. The pads of his fingers ever so slightly trace the borders of the wound. His lips and brows furrow in worry for a moment but then his face settles in a mix of concern and relief. He gets up and swiftly walks to his bathroom, retrieving the kit and carrying it to the small table in front of the couch.

  Matt takes his seat at my side once more and opens the kit. I reach my left hand to the open case so I can grab disinfectant, but he stops me. “I don’t think you can do a great job with your left hand when you’re right-handed, Mackenzie. Let me do it instead,” he says taking my hand and resting it on his lap; goddamn. “May I?” He asks softly and I melt on the inside, only being able to nod in return.

  He takes out the bottle of disinfectant, a needle and a thread, and bandages. He starts applying the disinfectant and I hiss at the burn; damn that son of a bitch. Matt makes a shushing noise, threads the needle and starts stitching the gash. I was wrong, this is worse; fuck a duck on a dock! I bite my lip in order to not scream from the pain. Okay, being shot ain't better, but enduring being stitched is no piece of cake either. My hand twitches in reflex a couple of times, but Matt’s iron grip keeps it steady. “It’s okay, it’ll be over soon.”

  “Could you at least tell me what you brought me so I can distract myself with something else to think aside from the pain?” Matt smiles faintly but says nothing. He’s not spilling then. Shoot.

  It feels like forever until Matt finishes patching up my hand. Despite being blind, he did a neat job; better than my previous one on him at least. What a show-off. I move my hand and fingers, assessing how much it hurts. It isn’t too bad thankfully. Very well, now it’s time for my gift!

  “There, all done, how does it feel?” Matt puts everything back in the box and closes it, taking it back to where it belongs in the bathroom. I wish I belonged here too.

  “Fine, I’ll survive. So, about that present…” I start coyly; things such as gift always make me self-conscious. He grins and goes to his bedroom. I wait patiently on the couch, imagining what it can be. A million of ideas cross my mind, but I can’t choose one, there are too many possibilities. He re-emerges with a box covered in wrapping paper with a bow on top of it. Oh my God, did he wrap it himself? That’s adorable.

  “Here, after the other day, I could not resist. I hope you’re able to use them despite your injured hand.” He hands me the box and I try to unwrap it carefully. After the third attempt, I give up and shred the paper to pieces. I feel sorry for Matt’s hard work going to waste, but I really don’t have the patience needed. I want to see what's inside, now!

  Discarding the paper aside, I open the box and I’m left speechless. This is amazing, truly unbelievable. Matt brought me ballet shoes. They’re beautiful. They’re not even used, they’re brand new. How did he manage to afford them? It escapes me completely, especially since they’re not the regular pink kind. They’re all _black_ , ribbon included. I put them back in the box and, with tears at the corner of my eyes, get up to hug him in the most crushing way possible. “Thank you so much, Matt!” I almost scream, probably deafening him.

  Matt returns the hug with the same warmth and familiarity. I protest when he pull me away from him, even if is just a couple of inches. He strokes one of my cheeks and leans in to give me a peck on the lips, way too fast and brief for me to really enjoy it. When he breaks the contact I stand on the tip of my toes so I can reach his lips and kiss him more passionately, wanting to express my immense gratitude. He doesn’t let me, though. Matt’s arms leave my body and he moves to the couch. I’m left standing, still quite baffled by the whole ordeal. As I turn, I catch the wide grin decorating his features. He’s so incredibly gorgeous.

  When I finally regain my bearings, I sit on the couch again, next to him. He takes the shoes in his hands, feeling them until the last little detail. They look so small in his big hands. Matt hands them to me with kind of a pleading smile. I stare confused at him for a moment, not getting what he means. “You said that if you could, you would dance. I thought that you meant that you were out of practice, but it was actually that you didn’t have the appropriate footwear. Well, it wasn’t a joke when I said that I wanted to see you dance.”

  My eyes glaze over as I stare amazed at him. He deserves nothing short of perfection. I haven’t danced in years, I must be really rusty, but I’ll still try my best. I just need some music and to remember some of the basic moves, the rest I can improvise. “Do you have anything I can use to plug my phone and put some music?”

  “Only my computer, unfortunately; I hope it does the job anyway.” He gets up to search for it while I take my boots off and change into the beautiful shoes. I’ll never use them for anything else besides dancing for him. He gave them to me for that lone purpose. Matt comes back with his computer in hand and hands it to me. I fumble a little to get everything set right, but after a couple of minutes, it’s ready. Just one thing left: warm up.

  “What are you doing?” Asks Matt a bit confused and amused at the same time. I look back at him and see the smile playing on his face. He’s such a cutie pie.

  “Warming up, of course, otherwise all my muscles will be sore after I dance. I could injure myself too if I don’t stretch accordingly.” He makes a face akin to fascination, smiling broadly. “Okay, let’s do this.” I push the “play” key and music starts flooding through the entirety of the apartment.

 

***Matt’s point of view***

 

  Soft and entrancing music starts to play, a female voice resounds in every corner. Music at this volume should be bothersome to me, but the tranquil and quiet melody is kind of enjoyable. Mackenzie stands up on the tip of her toes, aided by the ballet shoes which provide the support needed. She spins one, two and three times, moving across the room with each.

 

_You are an obsession_

_I cannot sleep_

_I am your possession_

_Unopened at your feet_

_There’s no balance_

_No equality_

_Be still I will not accept defeat_

  She dances with the lightness of a feather, unbothered by the weight of her body and the pull of the Earth’s gravitation force field. Mackenzie twirls and slides from one side to the other, making her way through the floor.

 

_Like a butterfly_

_A wild butterfly_

_I will collect you and capture you_

  Kenzie comes considerably close to me, moving in the narrow space between the couch and the coffee table. I think for a moment that she’ll collide with my legs, which block her path. Instead, I sense a leg coming up and swiftly passing over my head; like it was drawing an arch. Her boldness stuns me for a second, but I feel her other leg doing the same thing while she spins right in front of me. This time, her calf grazes the top of my hair like the softest of breezes. That’s definitely not accidental.

 

_You are an obsession_

_You’re my obsession_

_Who do you want me to be_

_To make you sleep with me_

  She continues her improvised dance (I can gather this much from the lack of coherence between her movements) in front of the window. Her arms move in synchrony, from her shoulders to her pinky fingers. It’s truly a mesmerizing show.

_You are an obsession_

_You’re my obsession_

_Who do you want me to be_

_To make you sleep with me_

  Mackenzie jumps over the coffee table and I tense for a moment, thinking that she won’t make it, but she narrowly avoids hitting it. With a sigh of relief, I keep my attention on her dance. It’s easy to follow her trail since the shoes are quite noisy against the wooden floor, distinguishable even above the music.

 

_You’re my obsession_

  The music starts to fade, forcing Kenzie to eventually stop her spins, and I break out of the trance I fell in.

 

_You’re my obsession_

  All I can say with certainty is that when she dances, it’s like witnessing a whole new Mackenzie. Her usually shy demeanor is switched for a more confident one, kind of the same as when she fights. It’s not like I prefer one or the other, but I’m happy to see that she’s not a one-dimensional person.

 

***Mackenzie’s point of view***

 

  I come to a stop after the fifth twirl, as the song ends. It’s one of my favorites; I used to watch this series about a ballerina who struggles with her new life in New York and the American Ballet Company where she dances. The song I danced to is from the opening and thankfully is a short but sensual one. Perfect for what I had in mind. It's slow and deconstructed melody is easy to improvise to, making it useful for a dancer out of practice like me. Also, the lyrics mean a _lot_ to me (you can imagine why…).

  Matt seems pretty amazed by my performance, smiling goofily at me. I wipe the sweat gathering in my forehead while I try to steady my breaths. Wow, that was exhausting, I need to sit down. Slumping down on the couch, next to him, I sigh deeply in appreciation of the soft and comfortable furniture beneath me. He, instead, gets up and goes to the kitchen to withdraw something from the fridge. I sit up and reach for my glass of water only to notice its absence. Turning back to the kitchen I see it on the counter, where Matt is throwing in some ice cubes. It’s really hot in here, isn’t it? I haven’t noticed before.

  When he comes back, he hands me the cold glass and I gulp down its content. Oh, how refreshing. He sits down in his spot next to me and takes a sip from his own glass. My feet hurt like hell, a normal consequence if we consider that I haven’t danced in years, but I couldn’t care less. Matt is happy, so I’m happy as well. “So, what do you think? Did you like it?”

  Matt’s left hand comes up to my cheek and strokes it a few times; then, he leans in and gives me the sweetest of kisses. Both of my hands rest on his rock hard chest, gripping tightly as the kiss intensifies. Meanwhile, his hands wrap securely around my lower back. Somehow, in the middle of our heated exchange of saliva, I ended up sitting in Matt’s lap (yeah, I don’t know either). He doesn’t seem annoyed by this; au contraire, it appears to encourage him more. His hands hold my hips with a vice-like grip and ground me against his own. Is this leading to what I think it is…?

  I gasp for air, finding the current amount in my lungs insufficient. Holy cow, this is so worth dying of asphyxiation for! Matt gently bites my bottom lip, pulling it in between his teeth, as a sign of wanting admission into my mouth. I grant it gladly, parting my lips so he can slip his tongue inside. This is so erotic, but in a sweet way (how does that even work?).

  After a moment longer of tongues dancing around and hips grinding against each other (which I don’t know how well will sit with Matt), he breaks the kiss. I sit more comfortably on his lap and take a good look at him. His lips are red and swollen; his gasps ragged are uneven; his eyes appear unfocused, with the pupils dilated. I wasn’t aware, during the kiss, that my hands didn’t stay perched on his neck all the time. It would seem that they took a trip over his hair and left quite a mess in there. He looks better than I thought with all his hair disheveled. If he lets me, I’ll ravish him right here right now.

  “Yes, I loved it.” Matt finally answers; although I’m not sure if he’s referring to the dance or the kiss, maybe both. “I’m really looking forward to watching more of your…dancing skills.” There are two words “wrong” in his sentence; and one which is way too suspicious. I mean, that pause before ‘dancing’ gives me the impression that he’s either not talking about dancing at all or not completely. Could my little show of lifting my legs over his head be a bit too much?

  “Well, if you want to I’ll do it again. Only this time, I would like to take some time to get something together so I can stop abusing my poor improvisation skills. Give me a couple of days and I might come up with a decent choreography for a longer song.” Matt smiles, pleased with his accomplish at getting what he wants. Am I spoiling him or nah?

  “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

  Four days it took to put together the damn choreography. It’s kind of a miracle considering how out of practice I was. For it, I chose one of my favorite songs from one of my most hated movies from one of my most enjoyed books. I always imagined that the song would be perfect for ballet dancing. As it turns out, I was right. It was hard to translate into physical movements in the real world the steps and moves that I saw in my head, but I managed nevertheless. I think that Matt will like it.

  Now that I’m ready to show him what I’ve been preparing, I only need to head out to his place. It’ll be better if I don’t tell him and just drop by unannounced, that way it remains a surprise. Not like he’s doing anything important right now. Matt’s probably out of work and it’s still too early to go out as Daredevil, so he must be chillin’ at home.

  Deciding that waiting until dark it’s my better option at getting out without my mom, or the jackass of her husband, catching me in the midst of it, I stay in my bedroom reviewing once more everything that I need for tonight. The advantage of going this late at night (still not the ‘Daredevil beginning of patrol’ hour) is that my highly sensual dance could lead to something else after I finish. And of course, afterward, I would sleep with Matt until tomorrow morning. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?

  Okay, it’s dark enough, time to get out on the streets! I know he wants to take things slow (and that’s exactly the reason why nothing happened the other day after I danced for him), but tonight might be _the_ night, my dear friend. He clearly wanted to give in before, I mean, I could _feel_ him beneath me while I was sitting on his lap. But I believe that the whole Catholic thing is holding him back by the collar. Matt feels kind of guilty; he thinks he’s sinning by being with me. I don’t blame him, he’s ten years older than me, and the fact that he developed feelings for me while I was underage doesn’t help either. Still, he swore to never push me away.

  The fresh air of the spring breeze hits me on my way to Matt’s apartment. It’s a bit chilly but nice at the same time; helps clear my head and boost my self-esteem. I have the feeling that tonight’s going to be great!

  My hand has mostly healed by now. Soon it’ll be only a ghastly white scar representing a memory of good times. I’m not talking about the hobo assault; I mean what ensued after that incident. I still can’t believe that Matt gave me those ballet shoes. They’re definitely my favorite possession. They’re number five in my list of most beloveds. The other four are my mom, Matt, Foggy and Karen, in that respective order.

  The lone bad thing about Manhattan (not mentioning all the _real_ bad things about it) is that you can’t see more than ten or so stars in the night sky, even when there’s no cloud to be seen. On the other side, it’ll make my job easier, since I plan to have a roof-date with Matt at some point of our new relationship. I want to sit on a blanket or something, during a warm summer night, and tell him everything about all the stars that my sight can reach (even when I don’t know jack shit about any of them).

  Just from thinking of all the possibilities we can choose from for a date, it makes me shiver with eagerness. I want to give him everything that I’ve to offer, even things that I don’t (damn, I’ll give him the moon if he asks for it. Well, at least I’ll try to). Now that I properly ponder on it, it all happened so fast, like, one day we're friends and the next we’re together. How crazy is that?

  Okay, fine, I know I’m rambling, but I’m still flabbergasted about all of this (yes, I really like that word, is awesome). So, like I was narrating before, I’m walking through the Kitchen in the dead of night. You’ll think that it would be plagued with crime, and criminals, waiting at every corner…but it isn’t. Well, not at every corner. Of course, there’s still some illegal business going on, just less than one would assume. Daredevil took care of pretty much all of Hell’s Kitchen night beasts. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve probably been mugged twice, kidnapped, and killed on my way to Matt’s house. Yeah, all of those things, consecutively. Thank God for the Devil.

  Sorry, not sorry if I’m boring you with my internal debate, I haven’t had the chance to think everything through for a long while now. From time to time you need to take a moment to assess what’s going on in your life and if you’re happy with how things are. It helps to improve your lifestyle, decide rightly when you have to make a choice, and most importantly, be content with the journey you’re traveling. No one wants to take a road they don’t like.

  So, I stop everything else that I’m doing and reflect upon my recent and past actions. Am I satisfied with what I did or said? Could I’ve done more or express myself differently? These are the kind of question that assaults me at night when I go to sleep, and I hate them, but I understand their necessity. Do you go through the same thing? This pseudo-self-evaluation, to know what the heck is that you’re doing with your own life? If so, I hope that you’re better at it than I am. It sucks, so let’s suck it up together. You and me, pals for life (only if you want to, of course, not trying to force my presence in your life or anything).

  Anyhow, we’re here, finally arriving at Matt’s apartment. That took longer than I thought. Let’s see if I can still climb up using the fire escape stairs. I haven’t done this in a while, so I hope I don’t fall and break my neck. Should be quite easy though-Oh uh.

 

* * *

 

  Do you want the good news first or the bad ones? Okay, negative news it is then. Upon stepping on the first set of stairs (and because last night drizzle left _everything_ wet) I slipped, fell to the ground and passed out. Yes, totally pathetic of me, no need to mention it. I woke up cold, sore and almost drowning in pain. Although with great cost, I managed to get up and climb the goddamn stairs once and for all.

  Right now I’m going through the rooftop door, trying to not wake up Matt and alarm him. This was supposed to be a surprise after all. Guess my incompetence ruined it. Is fine, I’ll brush it off after a warm shower. Then I’ll be ready to make him breakfast and dance for him afterward. Unfortunately, there won’t be time for anything _more_ than that, since Matt’s got to go to work. It’ll still be worth it.

  Hm, will Matt find it sexy or cute that I use the shoes while doing breakfast? Because, knowing him, I expect that he'll get up before I finish it. It won’t hurt to try. I better sit down on the couch to do…Is that a blouse? What the hell is a female’s clothing piece (that ain’t mine) doing here? It could be Karen’s, but it doesn’t seem her style. And I don’t think she would forget it either. There’s only one other woman who would visit Matt at his house. Oh God, it can’t be…

  Walking tentatively to Matt’s bedroom, I pray all the way over to the door that I’m fucking wrong about my guessing. I open the sliding door ever so slowly, dreading what I might find inside. Close your eyes and take a deep breath, Mackenzie, there’s no need to freak out. Matt would never cheat on me.

  Or he would.

  And he did.

  Claire’s on his bed.

  Her clothes are lying on the floor.

  All. Of. Them.

  Why? Why did I do to deserve this? Why did you have to do this Matt?! I thought you loved me!!!

  Matt’s eyes open and blink a couple of times, groggily. He looks in my direction and instantly wakes up. Fuck you, Murdock! I believed in what you said, I believed in what you told me about your feelings! I honestly believed that they were _real_. Before he can get up I get the hell out of the apartment, leaving behind the shoes he gave me. You can keep them, Matthew; I don’t want anything from _you_! You can go die and rot in Hell for all I care, you fucking asshole!

  Fuck this shit, I’m off for good. I won’t see him ever again this time, I promise. Yes, I know I said the same thing last time, but now I freaking mean it. I’m done, so utterly done. Seems like I was asking for it, right? The most idiotic thing I’ve done in my life. Of course, he doesn’t love me, why would he? It was just a perverted fantasy he wanted to fulfill. Or maybe it wasn’t, but he thought better about it and decided that I was not worth the trouble. Anyway, it ends with me brokenhearted and with Matt happy in the arms of someone else.

  I don’t know where I’ll go, just somewhere, anywhere; not home, that’s for sure. I’m not in the mood to take shit from the thrash that is my stepfather. I’ve enough assholes in my life as of right now. Having already dealt with one’s bullshit I don’t want to deal with another’s. Foggy and Karen aren’t reliable options either. There’s surely a place where I can stay away from everybody.

  My mother will be pissed, but no matter how much I love her and I care for her, right now is about me. I need time to think and figure things out; most importantly, time to get my shit together and walk forward with my crappy life. Maybe I’ll just kill myself and end the pain that way. It’ll be better for everyone if I’m gone.

 

*** Matt’s point of view***

 

  Mackenzie has been gone for a few days now. After she saw me with Claire she didn’t go home or anywhere else she usually frequents. Her mother, Foggy, and Karen are as worried as I am. The only difference is that they don’t feel as guilty as I do. They don’t know why she left either. I could tell Foggy and Karen, but not her mother. It would only make things worse, and Mackenzie’s hate for me would grow until the no return point. I fucked up big time, for real.

  The thing with Claire was just a distraction. I’m an asshole for hurting two of the people I care about the most, but I couldn’t think of another way to divert my feelings for Mackenzie. I love her, but it’s wrong. If only I could mend this somehow…

  I better start looking for her everywhere. She probably didn’t leave Hell’s Kitchen, so if I search at night while on patrol it might be easier. It’s something.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned before, some of the references you can find in this chapter belong to 50SOG (including the song that Kenzie uses for the choreography she puts together, which is Earned It by The Weeknd); Pink Floyd lyrics (a verse from Waiting for the Worms); Pokémon (yes, and it's very effective); and the song that Mackenzie dances to the first time is Obsession by Karen O, which is the theme song of the mini-series Flesh and Bone (it's also the series she refers to, about the ballerina who struggles with her life in NY and the ABC). If you like ballet and drama, I recommend it.
> 
> About the introduction of Matt's POV, I used it because I don't really know anything about ballet, and I thought that it would be too complicated to describe it from Kenzie's POV. The last part, which is also narrated by Matt, was so we know that he's worried about Kenzie's disappearance (since she left and hasn't got in touch with anybody, she couldn't know what Matt's thinking and thus WE wouldn't know either).
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter despite the drama going on (I know, another dramatic cliffhanger. What can I say? I'm a drama queen after all). I've no idea when I'll be updating again so please be patient with me. Thank you for reading and let me know what you think or if you find any errors that a missed.


	6. Save me from myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Wake me up when September ends...'
> 
>  
> 
> You're still there? After all what happened? You must be a sadist then because things are only going to get worse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so friggin' sorry!!! I know, I know, it's been 2 months and 6 days, I KNOW. I'm sorry, I really am, but since I started studying I haven't got a lot of free time as I used to. It's not easy to write when you have other things to attend to and inspiration seems to escape your grasp. But like I said before, I'm NOT going to abandon this fic, that I swear.
> 
> Cutting straight to the chase, this chapter doesn't contain any drama or romance, it's graphically bloody. So, if you don't want to read about blood everywhere and our beloved protagonist being in the midst of it, wait for the next chapter. 
> 
> This one is short in comparison to the previous ones but it's packed with gut clenching violence. You've been warned.

 

  Life alone ain’t bad. It’s no paradise, if you know what I mean, but is way better than having to deal with  _him_ ; that cheating asshole that took my feelings and threw them away like trash. He can go fuck himself for all I care (although, from what I know, he’s probably fucking Claire). I’m not mad at her, most likely she didn’t know anything about what was going on between Matthew and me (I’m not calling him ‘Matt’ anymore, deal with it). Besides, who would say 'no' to that guy? No, the fact that I wish him death, sort of, doesn’t mean that I’m not recognizing his handsomeness. He’s a jerk, but a hot one.

  You might be wondering where I am as of right now; where I’ve been staying this past week since I left Murdock’s apartment. Well, I can’t tell you the exact location, that’ll have to remain a secret so no one finds out my hiding spot. All I’m willing to say is that it’s an abandoned warehouse; yeah, the kind that criminals like so much. You can say that it’s dangerous because I could come across some thugs or mobsters; or even worse, Daredevil himself. If  _he_  finds me, it won’t be pretty.

  I keep getting texts and calls from him, but I ain’t answering them; like hell I would. Good thing my phone is an outdated one, so it can’t be tracked. The only reason why I brought it with me is in the case of an emergency, also in the case that my mom tries to reach me. Even after leaving a note for her when I went home to gather some things, she still calls me constantly. Sometimes I don’t pick up, but I can’t do it forever, otherwise she’ll die from worry. Still, I haven’t told her my whereabouts or when I’m returning home; just that I’m safe and that I’ll eventually go back. She insisted in that I tell her what prompted this decision, but I’m not spilling. This is between Murdock and me.

  So far it’s been quite peaceful in here, but I guess that was expected. In my time stalking Daredevil I came across a  _lot_  of warehouse and factories, dotting which were regularly used and which weren’t. At a time like this, it became handy to have this knowledge, so I’m kind of thankful for having followed him through half the Kitchen. Although, if I  _hadn’t_  I wouldn’t be in this situation, to begin with.

  If you’re asking from where or how I get food I can tell you that I had some money saved, so I’m buying with that. The probability of me going home because I don’t have any money left is bigger than doing it ‘cause I want to. It should last me for another week at least since I don’t really eat that much. Talking about this, it’s a miracle that I haven’t crossed paths with anyone that I know when I go out to do some shopping at the nearest grocery store. It might seem as a plain coincidence, but the warehouse I’m staying in isn’t that far away from Murdock’s place. I honestly can’t understand how he hasn’t found me yet. Maybe he isn’t even looking for me. Now that he has Claire, why would he even bother to do so?

  Hey, what was that? I heard a loud noise just now, like a tube falling to the floor or something. Well, I saw a couple of rats before, so it might be that. Nothing to worry about-

  “I told you, it’s completely abandoned, no one comes here anymore. It’s perfect for conducting our businesses.” A strangely familiar voice says. Where did I hear it before? It sounds just like…is the guy that shot me! He’s with someone else. What the hell are they doing here? Oh uh. If they want to use this for something, I better get the hell out of here as soon as I can. “What the fuck is that?”

  Shit, they saw my things, what do I do now? Fuck it, I’ll leave everything here and come back later when they’re gone. I can't risk being caught by them, especially now that I’m on “bad terms” with Murdock. There’s no way he’ll come to my rescue. He’s busy with more important things. All I need to do is sneak out quietly…

  *BANG*

  Fuck.

  “Hey, you! What the hell are you doing here, stupid brat?!” Fucking hell, they saw me. If the fucker recognizes me I’m done for. “I know you; I’ve got beaten up really bad because of you!” Seriously? He doesn’t only remember me, but he also recalls that I was saved by the Daredevil? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I can’t believe my luck right now. More importantly, this is my cue to get the hell out of here before they get their hands on-“Fucking get her!” Well fuck.

  The two goons start running in my direction as I try to bolt out. When did they get so fast? More so, when did I get so  _slow_? Unluckily for me, in the middle of my frantic escape, I don’t realize that I’m running directly into a jammed door. I scanned the place beforehand in light of this kind of situation, so I could know which route of escape to use. Ironically, it turns fucking useless at this very moment because I’m stupid. Shit, I’m going to be beaten to a pulp.

  Pushing the door with all my strength turns out to be fruitless since it won’t bulge. For Christ sake, not right now! A few days back I’ve got my heart broken, I don’t need my legs to be broken too. I look around frantically, searching for another way out. There’s none cleared near me. If I want to get away from them, I need to pass them somehow. Shit, too late.

  The asshole that shot me closes in on me, smiling triumphantly like I was some kind of prize he just won. It makes me sick. I go for the switchblade in my back pocket, but before I can get a hold of it the two morons jump on me. One of them grabs my arms behind my back while the other grips my short hair between his filthy fingers. I snarl and spit in his face, concealing my fear with arrogant boldness. I won’t give them the pleasure of seeing me scared, even if I’m pissing my pants. The idiot leader doesn’t take this well and punches me in the gut, knocking the air out of me. I gasp, trying to refill my lungs with oxygen and get up to put up a fight, but it’s already too late and he kicks my head. Before I can react, everything goes to black.

 

* * *

 

  My head’s spinning out of control and I can’t see shit. What the hell happened? Where the fuck am I? Please, tell that the stupid monkeys didn’t take me with them for whatever shadowy reasons they had. Since my eyes are covered with what I suppose is a piece of cloth, I try to refine my hearing until I can listen to something clear. Too bad for me, the room is completely silent. The only sound I can hear is that of a running rat in a corner somewhere, disgusting. If I thought it couldn’t get any worse…

  The sudden opening and consecutive clashing of a door against a wall startles me. Here I was, enjoying the quiet when these morons had to come and disrupt it, goddammit. A cacophony of footsteps invades the room and I tense up in anticipation. It’s not just the idiot and his goon; it’s the whole fucking gang. I don’t know what they want from me, but I’m sure as hell that they won’t spare any methods to gain whatever it is they're looking for. I’m not leaving unscathed anytime soon.

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little damsel in distress, it would seem.” Go fuck yourself, you fucking condescending piece of shit. That’s so fucking cliché it hurts my ears. I guess he’s the  _real_  leader of this group of asshats, but oh my God how lame he is. Like, seriously? Come on, man, make a fucking effort to appear menacing or something. “Are you comfortable my dear?” I’ll fucking cut you, bitch.

  “Yeah, sure, now that someone’s finally here I can order room service.” What a dumbass. Whoever the guy is, doesn’t take this lightly and orders someone to slap me. You giant pussy! You can’t even do it yourself? You’re just a pathetic little bitch, with too much power in between his hands. It’s embarrassing to everyone else except himself, no self-awareness. “Can’t even do the dirty work yourself, huh?” A second slap opens up my upper lip, which starts bleeding profusely. Shit, I really like the shirt I’m wearing and it’s probably stained red by now, fucking idiot.

  “You ain’t on a spa,  _sweetheart_ , you’re here to help us,” I swear it gave me chills when he called me  _that_  in  _that_  way. Ew. He’s surely a pervert of some kind. Anyway, what the hell can they want from me? I got nothing! I barely have any money and definitely no info- Oh,  _oh_. Do they mean…? “You’ll tell us  _where_  we can find your little devilish friend.” Yeah, that's what I thought.

  “What if I don’t?” What am I saying? Why do I care to hold this information from them? After all that Murdock did to me, am I still gonna risk my life by trying to save him? He fucking deserves whatever is these guys want to do to him! I should tell them everything! Where he lives, how he looks like, what’s his name…But that won’t only endanger him. He deserves all the suffering and pain he put me through and more, but Foggy and Karen don’t; even Claire doesn't either. If I open my mouth, they’ll get to them too, somehow.

  “We’ll torture you until you speak of course.” Just so I make this clear enough, I’m doing this  _only_  for K&F, okay? Murdock can go fuck himself (we both know he deserves it). “So, will you comply, or entertain us with your pleas for mercy?” I’ll rather die than ask for mercy, fucktard! Come at me, bitch!

  “Do your best, I’ll do mine.” I spit a bit of blood that surged up my throat, in his general direction. Man, this must be what it feels like to be blind. Too bad that I ain’t got Murdock’s superpowers or whatever they are. Douche Leader seems to take in the challenge because he hits me square in the jaw. Not a slap; a firm punch. A little more of force and I would be lacking a couple of teeth.

  “Deal. Get to work guys.” That can’t mean anything good, can it? Footsteps can be heard again, a single pair now. The sound of the cracking door disrupts the now reign silence once before this last is broken by a new rough voice.

  “Who’s your friend in the red underwear?” The man cuts straight to the chase, bluntly asking about Murdock’s identity. He might be an asshole (well, he actually  _is_  one), but that doesn’t matter, it’s not reason enough to expose him like this. A part of me deeply wants to spill everything and see him suffer the consequences of betraying me, but at the same time I wish to be the better person. Why is this so fucking confusing?!

  “First, it ain’t underwear; second, he’s a piece-of-shit-cock-sucking-asshole; and third, even if he is one, I won’t tell on him. If anyone is going to fuck him up, it’s  _me_. So as long as it concerns me, you can go fuck yourself, bitch.” With a wide grin and a probably deranged looking face, I answer him without skipping a beat. I’m not lying; I’ll be the one to hurt that motherfucker  _bad_. Sorry, I’m probably swearing way too much for your liking, I’ll try to keep it down a notch.

  The answer isn’t taken very well by the morons who are in charge of interrogating me and it earns me a punch to the face. I hear a loud crack as a wave of pain washes over my nose and surrounding areas. Great, he fucking broke my nose. What I presume to be blood starts running down my lips and chin, staining, even more, my shirt. I’m gonna make them pay my laundry. “We can go all night long, bitch, so you better speak up if you wanna walk away on your own instead of in the back of an ambulance.”

  I lick my lips, swallowing my own blood in a show of defiance. Good, I can go all night too, I think…Anyway, they’re not going to break me, I won’t allow it. The only one entitled to do that is Matt, even if I hate his guts (okay, I don’t hate him, but I really want to). Even if they kill me, what does it matter? What difference does it make? My life is already worthless, why do I even want to keep living at this point? I barely have a family, with an abusive stepfather and a mother who can only take care of herself thanks to the fucker she married; I only have two “friends”, since I can’t really count K&F as friends; and on top of that, the guy I fell for, the one who made me believe he returned my feelings, turns out to be a cheating and lying cunt. Seriously, what reasons do I  _have_  to live?! Fucking zero. So please, just go on and kill me, you’ll make me a favor. Maybe then I’ll finally find the peace I’m looking for. “Go ahead, break me, I don’t care anymore.”

  The air in my lungs gets knocked out by a fist connecting with my stomach. I desperately gasp for air, trying to regain my bearings and compose myself. I might let them kill me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go down pathetically. Some warm blood surges up my throat and I spit it out, feeling disgusted with the strong taste of iron. This won’t have a happy ending, that’s for sure. Unless Murdock comes barging in at the last second rescuing me from certain death. I just hope that if it  _does_  happen, it ain’t as cheesy as I think it could be.

  “Let’s try this again, shall we, who the fuck is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?!” The guy punches me once again in the face, making me spit even more blood. Honestly, how much blood can I spit? Two more of those and I’ll get a tooth knocked down. Yeah, I’ll like to preserve my mouth as intact as I can, wouldn’t want an open casket funeral with some white pearls missing from my smile.

  “Who knows?” I speak through bloodied teeth with a crazy smile. What I’m not sure about is if my insanity right now comes from before or it was inflicted by all those punches to my head. I probably got a concussion by now. If only my knight in shining armor came to swoop me up and carry me back to his castle…yup, definitely a concussion.

  Silence fills the room for a moment as everyone goes still and quiet. It’s almost like they stopped to think what’s gonna be their next move or something. I relish in the calm before the storm and take in as much as I can from my surrounding everything. The air feels damp and smells like it as well, not uncommon for an abandoned warehouse. The only sound filtering is the low hum of distant cars rushing through the heart of the Kitchen and the high-pitched squeaks of some rats running somewhere in the room.

  So far, most of my body hurts, be it because of the interrogation methods or my unhealthy lifestyle these past weeks. I still can’t see, since my blindfold hasn’t been removed. Every tiny bit of stimuli feels like a spark of information starting a fire through my senses. Maybe this is what Matt feels like all the time, but more accurate of course. I’ve got to say, the complete darkness is fucking terrifying. At least he’s got his “world on fire” or whatever that one is.

  For the first time since I’m here I wiggle my hands a little to get a feeling of how much restricted they’re. I can’t believe I’m this fucking stupid. Damn, I deserve all of this just because I’m so slow. You could argue that I got distracted by all the pain inflicted on my person, but let’s be real, that’s not enough reason for not trying to get myself freed sooner. Still, all I can say is that even if I  _do_  pry my hands out of the bindings, there’s not much else I can do to escape. It’s not like I can beat these guys in a fist fight, and my switchblade wouldn’t be more helpful. If I were Daredevil, this would be a completely different story.

  “That’s it; I’m done with you and your shitty attitude. If you don’t star giving us answers, I’ll force them out from you.” Genius! Nobody would’ve ever thought of that. It’s almost like you reinvented the wheel or something. Congratulations on making yourself look like a total dumbass, bitch. What the hell has been going on until now then? Because I don’t share your opinion about this tea party being too dull for your liking. And maybe that would have to do with the fact that this ain’t anything other than a fucking interrogation. Are you even here?

  “If that’s what you’re  _going_  to do, then what the fuck have you been doing so far?” Like for real man, are you even trying here?

  “Warming up.” To be honest with you, that statement just chilled me to the core. I  _really_  don’t want to know what he’s gonna do next. All I know is that it’s going to result in a lot of pain for me. Whoever is the thug that’s been in charge since the Bee Queen left circles around me and tugs at my restrained hands. He grabs one and squeezes it tightly before he holds onto a single finger, my middle one. I hear it before I feel it, a loud crack filling the otherwise quiet space enveloping us. A tidal wave of agonizing pain ripples through my arm all the way until I can almost feel it at the tip of my toes. Shit, this is bad, but fortunately not as bad as the other times that my bones broke or when I got shot. It’s still pretty painful, though.

  Once that the feeling registers in my mind, I let out a searing scream. Maybe someone will hear it and call for help. Who am I kidding? Nobody walks near here. A couple of lonely tears make their way down my face against my will. Fuck, the last thing I want is to appear weak in front of them. Guess it’s too late to worry about that.

  “How many more will I’ve to break before you tell us, two, three or all of them? It’s up to you brat.” I wish I could punch you in your teeth and leave you without any single one of them, you punk ass bitch! Like I’ll give in, I’ll rather die first. My hand is starting to feel numb, thank God. The downside is that I can no longer try to get my hands out of the zip tie. Whatever, even if I use all my strength I’ll only hurt myself by making the plastic dig into the tender flesh of my wrists.

  “Bitch, you can snap my neck for all I care. I’m done with you and your gang of faggy motherfuckers. Peace out.” I resign myself to a dark fate, trying to not fear death as I face it. There’s no way I’m getting out alive, so at least I’ll just try to find a happy place inside my mind while I leave my body to ship out to the vastness of the afterlife; if there’s any.

  The zip tie gets cut and for a brief moment I think I made it and they’ll let me go. Too bad we don’t live in an ideal world, right? The man that freed my hands kicks the chair forward with me still sitting on it. I fall on my face, too dumbfounded to put my arms in front of me as a way to reduce the damage inflicted by the fall. A storm of kicks and punches come flying down my way, leaving no spot unattended. Everything hurts so much I can’t distinguish what belongs where any longer. My body is just one giant and tangled mess of agony. If they plan to kill me this way, I hope someone kicks my head hard enough for me to pass out or break my neck. All I want right now is to find peace again, even if it’s in somewhere else than Matt’s arms.

  “Last chance bitch; who the hell is Daredevil?” Somehow he manages to finish the sentence and get interrupted as well. How? I don’t fucking know. What I can venture about is that, for an unknown reason, something is making them relent. Right now I feel fewer fists and feet aimed at me, like if someone was pulling the goons off of me. Maybe I got a guardian angel or some shit. As the violence stops coming in my direction, it starts spreading other ways. All that I can listen to is the sound of bones being broken and bodies hitting the floor, one by one. Oh, how satisfying it is to hear. Thank you, whoever you are, you just saved my…

  I’m still wearing the blindfold, even while having my hands released. I’m tempted to lift it and find out what the hell is going on, but I can’t conjure the energy to do so. It might sound stupid (knowing that I have a piece of cloth covering my eyes and blocking all forms of light that could reach them), but I feel like a different sort of darkness is clouding my sight. To put it simply, I think I’m blacking out. And somehow, I’m sure it’s _not_  good. I’ve to resist it or I might not wake up ever again. It’s a fact that I’m bleeding out. Somehow, in the middle of the “punch-Kenzie-like-she-were-a-piñata fest” one of them stabbed me in a place I can’t pinpoint right now. My entire body is starting to feel numb and cold, like if I were about to die. I probably am. Well, my life has been tragically beautiful while it lasted.

  The yelling and grunting of the fight going on around me come to an abrupt stop. Finally, Jesus Christ, I wanna get some sleep for fuck's sake, even knowing it’ll be eternal. Only one sound is breaking the sudden calmness of the room, and it’s ragged panting. Someone is out of breath, probably the person that has beaten the shit out of the gang of retards. Good for him, or her.

  The echo of footsteps getting closer fills the quiet atmosphere and for a slight second I start to panic and try to move out of the way of whoever is coming to where I am. Pain courses through my body and I scream once again, lying as still as I can to not elicit another tidal wave. I’ve enough suffering for today; or my entire life, for that matter.

  “Mackenzie…?” A low whisper tentatively calls my name but I can no longer give an answer. I’m too tired and drained of energy to even speak. The voice keeps muttering over and over again, getting closer with every breath I try to take. It’s painful, but it’s the only thing grounding me right now. Two gentle hands turn me around, leaving me with my back against the wet floor. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I’m soaking in my own blood. Great, just fucking great. Can I die now, please, so nothing else matters anymore?

  “It’s okay, everything is going to be alright, stay with me, Mackenzie.” The voice sounds a little frantic now, almost pleading. It must be someone that I know since I recognize his voice, but I can’t quite place who it belongs to. My mind is so foggy I can barely think straight. One of the hands puts pressure on my knife wound to stop the bleeding and I scream at the pain it causes, but nothing comes out of my mouth, only a pathetic gasp for air. At some point my blindfold gets tugged off of my face and light comes flooding from everywhere, almost blinding me for real. I wriggle around, trying to turn away from the source of the offending light to no avail.

  After a couple of minutes, my eyes regain their focus and I can see my surroundings through a blurry lens. There’s a man crouching down in front of me, wearing some kind of dark red and black suit that covers everything except the lower half of his face. Why does this ring a bell in my head? It’s like I’ve seen him before…Daredevil. Yeah, he’s the one I was being interrogated for, it’s his fault that I’m dying, isn’t it? I’m so confused I don’t even know.

  He scoops me up and carries me bridal style out of the warehouse, leaving a bunch of unconscious criminals behind. Still a total badass, Murdock, at the same time that a complete jerk. I won’t ever forget your betrayal, and you won’t buy my forgiveness easily either. But I’m glad that you came and I can see you one last time before I fall in the arms of death.

  “About fuckin’ time Murdock.” My voice sounds so hoarse that I don’t recognize it as mine at first. I hear him chuckle softly, but it comes out more as a broken sob. Is he really feeling that guilty? Well, he should.

  “I’m so sorry Mackenzie.” I don’t know exactly what he’s apologizing for, but I don’t care. It’s too late for him to be sorry now, and equally for me to forgive him. Not acknowledging that he spoke in the first place, I try to gather my thoughts to form something akin to a goodbye. It’s time now, I can feel it. The drowsiness is becoming greater as time goes by and the darkness is pulling me under with more strength that I’ve left inside of me to fight it off. All I’ve to do is close my eyes and give in to the temptation. It’s so easy to just let go…

  “Mackenzie, wait, please, just a little longer and-” The engulfing void cuts him off. I can no longer see, hear or feel anything at all. The only thing left is the eerie quietness of the encompassing abyss that’s swallowing me while I die. At last, peace and calm. Forever.

 

* * *

 

  Warmth and softness are what I fell around me. This must be heaven. I dare not to open my eyes in case I’m wrong and I wake up in hell. The sensation of grogginess still claims my body and mind, making it hard to stay conscious. I lick my dry lips and take a deep breath, almost tasting the smell of iron in the air. Blood, it’s mine? Why am I bleeding if I’m already dead? It doesn’t make any sense. My limbs feel rock hard and heavy when I try to move them. At first, I think that it’s because I’m chained to something, which would be logical being in Hell, somehow…

  My mind is so fuzzy I can’t even comprehend my own thoughts; like they were someone else’s. There’s a sound coming from somewhere far away, low and rapid. I perk up my ears a bit and distinguish the noise as being a male’s voice talking to another person. Whoever’s talking is trying to keep it down unsuccessfully, since he’s speaking way too fast to be unheard.

  “…Yes, she’s here-No, you’ve to come right away, she’s bleeding out…I know Claire! I tried to stop the hemorrhage but it’s not helping with the fact that she already lost a lot of blood. She needs to be stitched and you’re the only one I know that can help her.” He sounds so desperate, but I don’t know why or who he’s talking about. I hope he gets to save this friend of his.

  “Claire-Just, listen to me! I can’t do this; it goes way beyond my knowledge and abilities. If I could I wouldn’t be calling you right now. Please, if she dies…it’s going to be my entire fault. I screwed up, but I got to fix this somehow and I can only begin to do it with your help.” Claire, that name sounds familiar for some reason. Did I know someone named like that back when I was alive? It feels like we didn’t get along, but maybe I’m getting things mixed up in my decadent state of mind.

  “Yes, thank-Yeah, I know, thank you so much, Claire. I own you big time…Ye-yeah; I’ll do that while I wait, see you in a bit.” The voice grows quiet and I’m left with my jumbled thoughts once again. I still haven’t opened my eyes to see where I am. It’s quite scary, to be honest.

  “Kenzie…?” The guy who was talking to the woman named Claire is speaking nearer this time. Who’s Kenzie? It feels like that’s my name or part of it. Is he talking to me? “Just hang on, okay? Claire is coming to help you right now, so you just have to wait a little longer. Can you do that?” What does he mean? She’s coming to help me? Why? I’m already dead, there’s nothing to help me with.

  A hand caresses my right cheek softly; as if the guy is afraid of breaking me into a thousand pieces. Somewhere deep inside I feel like he could do that with less than his touch, but I’m not sure why. Everything goes silent again and the tugging sensation of emptiness reappears out of nowhere. I can't resist it, even if I want to stay awake and see who my companion is.

  Before the darkness reclaims my mind once more, I open my eyes slightly only to see a couple of dark eyes looking back at me. What a gorgeous face to see before fading into nothingness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Mackenzie said, things are only going to get worse, and then better, and then worse once again. Think of this fic as a rollercoaster in some sort of twisted way. I know this one is another dark cliffhanger, but don't fret, we all know that our Kenzie is stronger than she seems.
> 
> Next chapter will be a little bit of a recess for the characters, and everything will be okay again until shit hits the fan, of course. All I'm going to say is that chapter 7 is the calm before the storm in this story.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the patience, love, and support. And even if you're only reading, it means a great deal to me. If you want to comment something about the story plot-wise, character-wise or just writing-wise I'm all eyes for reading whatever you want to say. Thank you all once again and we'll "see" each other next chapter. ;D

**Author's Note:**

> This is a wild idea I got while watching the series and decided to write it down when I finished episode 13. I can't promise you it gets better, but ride with me if you're curious enough.
> 
> And of course, any comment and feedback will be appreciated. Thank you for reading. <3


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